Champion of Destruction: The 96th Hunger Games
by CelticGames4
Summary: With the 100th Games quickly approaching, the excitement for the Games has reached record levels. It is the job of the power-hungry President and his loyal Head Gamemaker to fuel the crowd's building fire. As the power grows, the Districts are burnt by the fire. President Rutilus is giving them a message: the only thing that comes from violence is destruction.
1. Prologue 1

**Prologue 1**

The great hall in the Presidential Mansion was full of people, people of every color, size, and shape. There was a party beginning, to celebrate the start of the Ninety-Sixth Annual Games season. As a result, there was barely room to move around without someone accidently bumping into another person as they wandered around.

Near the front of the room, musicians were setting up, preparing to play. The principal violinist of the Capitol Symphony was a woman of twenty-two years with pink hair and bright blue eyes named Padme Bundren. She wore formal black as the rest of them, a nice suit that fit her perfectly and accentuated her curves as she provided the orchestra with an A. The group became a free-for-all of A's, E's, D's, and G's, until the noise faded and everyone knew they were in tune.

The conductor took the stage just then. He was a man that was almost forty, with blue hair and bright purple eyes. Named for music, Brio Leighton had spent his entire life in his father's music store, and had known he was destined for this. He gave his orchestra a smile and raised his baton, beginning the light-hearted dancing music.

At the piano was a man in a black tuxedo with a bowtie the same dark green as his hair and eyes. He sat at the piano, longing for the fluffy white cat that used to sit on the instrument and listen to his music. He longed for the good old days, when the whole world was on his platter as a teenager, the days he and his friends were able to live without a single care in the world. He had to make money somehow, and though he wasn't exactly fond of the Games, playing piano with the Capitol Symphony was a good way to make money.

The hall was loud and stuffy as it was somewhat crowded. Women in dresses with poofy skirts were discussing the events of last year's Games, which had been won by District Six's Noa Ernest. The eighteen-year-old Victor had attracted a lot of attention in recent months. Reaped as a female, Noa was bigender, which, as she explained it, meant that she identified with being both female and agender. Noa switched off between using they and them pronouns and she and her pronouns. They had admitted that they liked the variety, and most were respectful of them. Their gender identity was confusing to many, and some even criticized it, but Noa took it all in stride. While normally she tended to be snarky and sarcastic with rude people back home, she was on her best behavior in the Capitol and ignored the jabs and rude comments. Noa did their best to remind others of their gender identity, without seeming impatient. Noa was a crowd-pleaser, and definitely a Capitol favorite. She was not only discussed because of her openness about her gender, but also because of her lifestyle of a Victor. In the past, District Six's victors had a reputation for being nothing but weak, broken morphling addicts. Noa was determined to change that, and hadn't touched a dose of the substance, or even a drop of alcohol, since winning the Games. They vowed to be there for their future tributes and wanted to show Panem that Six still had a fighting chance.

Joltee Rutilus was in the middle of the crowd, buttoning his golden suit and wearing the smile of a champion. He didn't necessarily know what he was doing, but he could fake it. The man had certainly worked up to his position. He had begun as an average boy in school, not the top of his class (if it had not been for that wretched Diesel Bundren, though, he certainly would've been). He had worked his way up, spending time as a Peacekeeper in District Four, before he had become an escort for District Five. He had changed his name then, to fit in, and had never deemed it fit to change it back. He then served time as a Gamemaker for the eightieth Games through the eighty-third before he had become President Snow's personal secretary, taking the aging President's responsibilities on his shoulders.

When the beloved President Snow had passed away, Joltee was the clear choice to take his place. As was planned, of course. The man, a young and charismatic personality, had brought a new life to the nation: though he ruled with an iron fist. He gave a warm smile, but his eyes were ice cold.

The center of attention, President Rutilus was taking young ladies by the hands and spinning them around to the music, having dignified conversations with the elderly upper class, and, of course, scrounging the crowd for his next squeeze.

He had to keep up his persona, of course, the sweet young man with bright eyes and big plans. Even though he was in his forties by now, the people of Panem still saw him under that light. He had admittedly had a number of plastic surgeries to appear younger, and still looked like he was newly thirty, to keep up this image. And, of course, his reputation as the intelligent scholar who would do anything to expand his horizons. The energetic patriot, who passionately serves the country and lives for justice and liberty from the people. Joltee had it all, and he had to make sure nobody saw a single imperfection.

A man had caught the President's eye just then, dressed in a red velvet suit with a bowtie the same bubblegum pink as his hair. "Ah, Blaine!" the President said, holding up a hand and waltzing easily to the younger man's side.

"President Rutilus! How very nice to see you!" The younger man at thirty-four was still slightly gobstruck around the new President, though it had been close to ten years since he'd taken office and Blaine had worked under him. The new announcer, twenty-one-year-old Simone Silver, was even more at awe at the appearance of the president.

"Blaine, dear boy, I've told you at least a thousand times, just call me Joltee."

It was not in Blaine's personality to be anything but respectful to those that he looked up to, though, and instead the man just smiled good-naturedly and thanked the President for the kind words. Blaine Buchanan had started interviewing young, as he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and was not expected to live long afterwards. Yet, fifteen years later, Blaine had beaten the odds and had survived the cancer. His first year interviewing had been the eighty-first Games, when he was nineteen years old. From there, he had only improved.

Joltee enjoyed the younger man, and the crowds loved him. It seemed that Blaine was genuine and totally charming. Joltee had spent a lot of time trying to best him, and learned many valuable lessons from him about how to play the sweet boy card. By operating on a first-name basis with the people of the Capitol, Joltee was relatable and down-to-earth, and extremely well-liked.

It was all a game of strategy, really, winning over the masses. The tides could be turned at any second, and if you lost the favor of the crowd, the consequence you faced would certainly be death. It was the story of unfortunate Head Gamemakers, most of all.

"How are you enjoying the party?" Joltee asked the younger man, piling his plate high with food. "Isn't it tremendous?"

"Certainly," Blaine said. The younger man was used to parties at the Presidential mansion, but there was always something there to impress him. It was, after all, such an expansive building. Only the best of pre-Games parties would be held in the Presidential mansion. The Capitol orchestra was there playing, the tables were covered in food…

Everyone was extremely jolly. Gamemakers were milling around, enjoying their one night of freedom before they would be spending the rest of their month shut away in the Games complex overseeing the Arena. Blaine was pulled onto the dance floor by some girls that giggled the whole way.

"I'll catch up with you later, Old Chap!" Joltee called after him, laughing to himself as he put a cupcake into his mouth and ate happily. He noticed a woman with straight, natural chestnut brown hair just then and quickly went to meet her, waving. "Celestia!"

President Snow's thirty-three-year-old granddaughter turned to face him and smiled politely. "Good evening, Joltee. Quite the spectacular event you have here tonight, I must say."

Though Celestia was a Snow, when her grandfather had died, she had no interest in taking his place. Many Capitolites had said that she should be on the election ballot, but for reasons Joltee neither understood nor wanted to question, she had declined. Celestia had only been twenty-three-years-old at the time, but Joltee had no doubt that she would have given him a run for his money had she decided to run due to her immense popularity among Capitolite citizens. However, Celestia proved she wasn't planning on disappearing from the spotlight when she applied to be a Gamemaker for the following Games. Not seeing her as a threat in the least, Joltee hired her, and quickly had appointed her Head Gamemaker six years previous, just in time for the ninetieth games. Celestia was an obedient Gamemaker, often agreeing with Joltee, and when she didn't, she was always polite about voicing her opinion. She was always willing to work with him, and never gave him any reason not to trust her. Joltee could see she didn't want the power that being president entailed and was content enough with her position as Head Gamemaker, so therefore, he saw no reason not to keep her around. In fact, he saw Celestia as his most important ally, and the two of them could even be considered friends.

Well, ha, slightly more than friends. Joltee still could barely look at the woman without the mental image of the nights they spent together. He had considered her to be not much more than her body back in those days, though he was proven wrong. He had used her to what he pleased and then it was broken off. They were still on decent terms, though, even after they just went back to being friends. He'd gotten all he wanted from her anyways, which was his own personal victory. After all, he had always used his power to have his way. It was simply one of the perks of being the President.

"It's certainly extravagant. I trust you have found yourself to be quite at home here?"

"Of course. You know it has been my home for twenty-three years," Celestia said. She had found her own place in her own, smaller mansion, one that was nestled in the neighborhood reserved for Gamemakers and their families. She had lived there ever since Joltee had taken over. It was cozy, with only herself and a small staff of avoxes taking up permanent residence.

"Indeed. I trust that everything is on schedule? Otherwise you'd certainly be working instead of partying."

Celestia grinned. "I'm ahead of schedule. Besides, my team can handle everything without me for a few hours."

"Of course you are," Joltee sighed fondly. "Wouldn't expect anything less of my stunning little Head Gamemistress."

"Only the best for our dutiful president." Celestia took every opportunity to compliment Joltee. She knew how to stay on his good side. Being only the second-most respected person in Panem came with a price. Joltee may be a cruel man, but she was smart enough to cooperate. In all honesty, she didn't mind too much. Whatever it took to keep her life and stay in the president's good graces.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful. Of course you will enjoy the night and make yourself quite at home, as always. I'm sure I'll find you later, dear Celestia, but now I simply _must_ go try the calzones!"

"Oh, yes, they are to die for. You know where I'll be. Enjoy your evening."

Joltee easily put up a hand in a relaxed wave and then waltzed off to where a group of ladies were beckoning to him, just waiting for him to come their way. He had to stay popular, after all. Celestia, meanwhile, joined a circle of her Gamemakers, each of which had a glass of champagne in hand.

Joltee spent the rest of the night dancing away without a care in the world. Every once in awhile he would flatter a pretty woman or an attractive man and cope a feel. All in good fun, though! Many of them were far too drunk to notice anyways. He leered at Celestia's cleavage while she was drinking. He laughed at where Blaine Buchanan linked arms with a chain of people and skipped around gleefully, Simone by his side like a loyal puppy. Joltee knew that he would have to be all business through the next few weeks as the Games approached.

The calzones were simply divine, so the President took a glass to empty his stomach so that he could enjoy some more.

 _And so the celebration of the Ninety-Sixth Annual Hunger Games begins,_ he mused to himself, as he swallowed the liquid and began to feel quite sick.

 **Authors' note:** _Hello, we are Dreamer and_ **Celtic! You probably recognize us from some of the SYOTs/partial SYOTs we've written! :3** _We might have even sent you here from them. Whether you've been with us for a while or are new, welcome!_ **This is super exciting! Ah! Even though we have ten days till we're posting this!** _If you are interested in submitt_ **ing, please go on my (Celtic's) profile** **for the rules** _and form_ **!** _You can PM either one of us with the forms, but we will NOT accept any submissions through review._ **Please read the rules before you submit!**


	2. Prologue 2

**Prologue 2**

Blaine Buchanan, the Head Interviewer, sat on the comfortable loveseat in his living room, sipping tea. Across from him sat Simone Silver, his newly hired announcer and Games partner.

Blaine remembered those days when he was a newbie. His first interview was almost twenty years ago! To think that Blaine had lived and loved and laughed so long, when he was predicted to die before the gong of the 82nd Games. The feeling of being new and young still seemed so familiar, as if it were just yesterday he had been the new guy. He couldn't help it, he wanted to mentor the newest addition to his team and help her to be the very best she could possibly be. It was just the kind of person he was.

Meanwhile, the twenty-one-year-old announcer was clearly bubbling with excitement, as well as a bit of nervousness. Ever since she was a little girl, she had admired Blaine. Seeing a happy, cheerful man who was always smiling despite his dim prognosis inspired Simone. By watching Blaine for as long as she could remember, Simone realized anyone could accomplish their dreams, no matter what their situation. Sitting across from Blaine truly was a dream come true. Since she was about six or seven years old, Simone could think of nothing else she'd rather do as a career. The day she was hired was the most exciting day of her life.

Blaine smiled at the girl, looking back fondly on his time as an interviewer. In his career, he'd worked with one other announcer, a girl named Saxon Hastings, who retired when she decided to quit the Games in favor of trying to start a family. Saxon was aromantic and asexual, but still interested in adopting a child. Blaine didn't know all of the details, but she had excitedly been telling him that she was going to have a baby in her arms by the end of the year.

"Thanks for coming," he said, smiling. "Ready to learn some tricks of the trade?"

Simone couldn't contain her excitement. "Of course! I've been ready for years!"

Blaine laughed, remembering a time when he was just as excited about his work. He had always wanted to be an interviewer. Even when he spent time in the hospital, he made sure to interview each of the specialists and doctors that were caring for him. He had known what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, and now he was doing it. He still loved his work, of course, but he wasn't quite so starstruck or excited.

"I would expect nothing less, dear. You have the posture of an announcer, that's for sure."

Simone flushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you, Mr. Buchanan, Sir."

"You don't have to call me Sir," he said good-naturedly. He couldn't believe _anyone_ would want to call him Sir!

Simone gave a small laugh, some nervousness oozing out of her. "Oh, alright. Just a habit I guess. I've been watching you my whole life and I just can't believe I have the honor of working with you!"

"Well, now we're officially equals. I declare it be so," he said dramatically, cracking a smile.

"Alright," Simone said, although she was still in awe of her new position. "Equals it is then. Now, how do we start?"

"Well, are there any questions you have?" Blaine laughed. "I remember my first year, I wanted to know everything. I asked about a million questions. As was my job, after all." He laughed.

Simone grinned. It was so easy to talk with Blaine, which was understandable. He was the interviewer for a reason. "I don't even know what to ask! It's all so overwhelming, to be honest."

"Oh, I know. It's certainly a lot to take in, all while to adjusting to your new-found title of celebrity. How's the paparazzi been treating you?"

"I can't go anywhere anymore without being recognized! It's mind-blowing. I don't really mind, though. I'm very much a people person."

"So am I! Which is ideal for the position, so good for you."

"Thank you! I'm glad!"

"Well, the paparazzi will only get worse when everyone sees how well you do! You'll have to brace yourself!"

Simone laughed. "I'll prepare myself."

"Good girl. As for the perks, though, you get to know things before anyone else! Including Training Scores! Which is awesome!"

"Really? I thought you found them out as you read the card! You're wonderful at feigning surprise!"

"Nope," he said. "After so many outer District tributes caught us by surprise, they decided to start letting us know beforehand so that we can give the reactions they want!"

Simone hadn't thought about that, although it made sense. "Well, lucky us then!"

"Yeah! We have plenty of perks!" Blaine smiled and nodded decidedly.

The young woman grinned. "So when do we start?"

"Well, my first interview with Celestia is tomorrow afternoon, which the two of us are practicing after you and I are done. And then tomorrow starts filming for Games specials like you wouldn't believe! This year's highlights: _Almost Victors: the Most Interesting Runners Up of Games History,_ and _Fallen Angels: the Most Heartbreaking Losses as Voted by Capitol Viewers!_ Very emotional and exciting programs, and we'll be hosting! Those won't be live, tIhough, so we'll be able to have multiple takes if we say something bad or strange."

Simone beamed, remembering watching dozens of these specials growing up. "That sounds like a great place to start, then."

"Did you vote for the most heartbreaking losses?" Blaine asked with a mysterious smile. "I did. Polls don't close until tomorrow!"

"Of course! I voted as soon as the special was announced! I chose January Denali of the thirty-sixth games, mostly because of how Pontifex Gallivan broke down afterwards. I've never seen such a strong dynamic between two District Two tributes. What about you?"

"Oh, yes, that was quite sad. Well, I saw that Osmium Krietzer was winning by far on the polls, but I have to say I'm biased towards the Games I interviewed for, of course. After all, I talked to those tributes face-to-face on my stage. I chose Gidget Tasker from District Three. Remember that girl that allied with the Victor that year?" He was referring to the eighty-eighth Hunger Games. The Victor that year had been an 18-year-old from District Eight named Anthony Tidwell. After losing an uncle and a brother to the Games, Anthony was able to win for his family. His ally, an unfortunate girl named Gidget, had been taken by another alliance in their Games and tortured. The Careers found the group and killed all three of them before Anthony knew what was happening. He was really a sweet kid, she was just as sweet. It broke Blaine's heart just thinking about all of it.

"Oh, that's a good choice, too. Anthony's games were one of the first I can remember becoming really attached to the tributes. I rooted for him the whole way."

"I did too. There was just this genuine air he had around him. She was a sweet girl, though, and she died such a brutal death." He sighed, but in true Capitolite fashion quickly got past it and was smiling again. There may've been a small part of Blaine that was unsettled by the Games, but the interviewer knew that he couldn't linger on that too much for fear of his job, safety, and life. The rebels were getting slightly more outspoken, and the Capitol's really started to crack down on those problematic people.

"Does it ever get hard, learning about the tributes only to watch them die?"

"Of course it does," Blaine sighed. "Seeing some of the younger ones on that stage, listening to them talk about their families and friends and knowing what's going to happen to them… Yeah, it can be hard. But… I try not to dwell on it if I can help it. No matter what happens, no matter what kind of gore is on the screen, you have to keep up the act. You'll get better and better as time goes. I think that's one of the reasons Saxon quit. She couldn't take it."

The young woman tucked a strand of her dark blue and silver hair behind her ear, letting Blaine's words sink in. Simone knew she had a privileged life, and wondered how her views would differ had she had grown up in the districts, living in constant fear of death. "I suppose so," she agreed.

"That's why this job isn't to be snorted at," Blaine said decidedly. "It takes poise and strength like you wouldn't believe to work in the Games."

"I'd believe that." Simone paused before adding, "I hope I have what it takes."

"Of course you do, my dear! That's why you were hired!" he said reassuringly, his synthetically magenta eyes sparkling genuinely.

"Thank you, Blaine. That means a lot."

"Any time!" He clapped his hands, summoning at least five Avoxes to come see what he might need next. An interviewer's life is definitely lavish, that's for sure. The interviewer was like the Capitol's family, and their home was practically the home of the Capitol people. His doors were always open. In fact, he even hosted a talk show from his living room called "Brunch with Blaine." The most recent guest had been none other than Noa, last year's Victor.

Simone nodded briefly at the Avoxes, before turning her attention back at Blaine. To be honest, she wasn't sure what to make of the voiceless servants. On one hand, they were criminals, but on the other, they were still people. "Anything else you think I should know before Ms. Snow arrives?"

Blaine considered, his face contorting as he was thinking. "Oh, I know! Study up on the greats! I've done a _lot_ of that. From Caesar Flickerman all the way back to Yin Kozart, all the way back, even, to Marius Venici! Sometimes first is the best!"

"Someday our successors will be adding us to the list!"

Blaine's eyes were filled with stars. "Right. Well, as long as we're good enough to be considered the greats. I don't think anyone could compare to Marius, though." Blaine sighed dreamily. "I feel like I know everything about the guy and he was dead before I was born."

"I think you come close, though. I assume he's like a role model to you?"

"Oh, for sure! I mean, I like the others too, but…" He shrugged.

"Something about him just sticks out to you," she suggested.

"Yes, that's it!" It definitely _wasn't_ the fact that he was super cute. Nope. Not at all.

"It's good to have someone to look up to," Simone said, looking a bit starry-eyed herself. "I think it encourages us to be our best selves."

Just then, a bell rang near the front door, echoing throughout Blaine's home.

"Very insightful," Blaine said cheerfully, knowing that one of his Avoxes would answer the door and let Celestia in. Sure enough, a younger, female Avox with short brown hair scurried out of the room and returned with the Head Gamemaker.

"Good afternoon, Blaine. Simone," Celestia said, shaking both their hands and taking a seat in the empty chair at the head of the table.

"Lovely to see you Miss Celestia," Blaine said as he shook her hand.

"You as well. How are you both?"

"Oh, I'm just delightfully good! I was just giving Simone some advice," he said, smiling kindly. Simone nodded in agreement.

"Oh? That's good. Thank you for showing our new announcer the ropes."

"He's a good teacher," said Simone, eager to praise Blaine.

"Oh, thanks," Blaine said, swatting his hand in the air and blushing as was polite to do. "In fact, maybe she could be on tomorrow's Brunch with Blaine before my interview with you that evening."

Celestia nodded. "That sounds fine. I'd clear it with the president first, though, if I were you."

"Oh, yes." Blaine tensed, but only slightly and not noticeably. "Of course. He'll either love the idea or pretend to like it politely."

"Most likely," the Head Gamemaker agreed. "So, let's get started with this mock interview shall we. Avox, would you please pour me a glass of water before we start?" At her command, the same Avox who had let her in shuffled off.

"You don't have to say please," the robotic phrase bubbled out of his mouth, "She's just an Avox." He had never thought it right to treat the criminals like less than human, but around the higher- ups he had to be on his best Capitol behavior.

"I may not have to, Blaine, but I choose to. When I was a girl, avoxes were my only friends, with my parents deceased and my grandfather too busy to play with me. They may be criminals, but contrary to popular belief, they're not insects. They don't deserve to be treated as such."

"That's kind of you," Simone said, deciding then and there that she liked Celestia. She had never met the Head Gamemaker's grandfather, but from what she had her about him, Celestia didn't seem to be anything like the cruel, power-hungry man.

"Indeed it is," replied Blaine, losing most but not all of the tension held in his shoulders. "Simone, we're going to begin rehearsing our interview for tomorrow. I'll give you a call and we'll see about tomorrow for brunch, alright?"

"Alright," Simone said, standing up. "Thank you, Blaine." An Avox moved to show her out, but after a moment's hesitation, Simone shook her head. "No, that's fine. I won't get lost."

When she was gone, Celestia turned to Blaine. "Let's get started then."

"Yes, indeed!" He grabbed his notecards off of the coffee table and flipped them open to the first question.

 _ **Authors' Note:**_ _Dreamer_ **and Celtic** _here again with the second prologue! We have collected a good amount of tributes so far, but we're still looking for more. :)_ **So we decided that now we should open the submitting to two tributes per person!** _ **However, we may accept both, just one, or neither, you are not guaranteed acceptance for both! We do have a few rules though: nobody will be able to have two from the same District, and nobody can have two Careers. In fact, your second character Is more likely to be accepted if they are a bloodbath. The deadline will be July 24th, 2016! That's also the day that the tribute list will be released!**_

 _ **We love reviews, and want to know what you think: which of the Capitol icons was your favorite? Which one(s) would you like to see more of in the future?**_


	3. Prologue 3 and Tribute List

**Prologue 3**

Victor Noa Ernest stepped off the train after it had pulled into the Station in District Two. A crowd had formed, knowing she and a large group of other victors from the past twenty years or so would be gathering here today at the home of Pit Kensy and her husband, Nikko Hollenbeck-Young. She still wasn't used to hearing the roars of her fans. On both sides, Noa was guided to Victor's village by Peacekeepers, to protect them in case of any conflict.

Meanwhile, the house was bustling. Pit, the Victor of the Eightieth Games, was chasing her ten-year-old son Damon around the house. The mischievous little boy was trying to make a getaway with the tray of cookies his father had baked for the occasion, and his mother, knowing that the boy wouldn't actually eat the cookies when it got down to it, was wearing down.

Meanwhile, his father, Nikko Hollenbeck-Young, was setting out other snacks with the assistance of his twelve-year-old daughter, Peregrine. The girl, with her mother's brown hair and her father's bright blue eyes, was a big help, and used to the paparazzi by now. It came with being the first child of the two Victors. She flourished under the spotlight.

Nikko wasn't mentoring with the year, and would take the kids out while the other mentors had their meeting regarding the Games. However, he was the keeper of the house, and always willing to help his wife, so he was overseeing things and greeting people (which his wife hated, and he knew it).

"Aha!" came the triumphant shout from Pit, as she'd cornered her son and acquired the tray. "Got you!" Nikko and Peregrine heard wild giggles as the ten-year-old was picked up and spun around by his mother, the tray being momentarily forgotten on his nightstand.

"I think we're ready for everyone," Nikko said, ruffling his daughter's short hair as he walked out to the sitting room, where the other mentor for District Two was waiting. Cato Bailor had won these Games just two years before Nikko won the seventy-sixth, and six years before Pit won the eightieth. After winning his Games, Cato was changed from the person he was, but had to keep up the image for the media. He was close with the Victors closer to his age, though, and was the second best choice to mentor next to Pit, the first being Nikko.

"Hi Cato!" Peregrine said happily, waving to the Victor. The man patted her head as Pit came back out with Damon and the cookie tray. She set the tray down on the table with the snacks and looked around.

"Where is everyone!?" she asked, peering out the window to see the rest of the Victors arrive. District Two was the worst place for this type of thing, because its citizens were also the biggest fans of the Games. Eighteen victors parading down the road to Victor's Village drew quite a crowd.

"Alright, you two go with your father. Be good for him."

"Let's go see Gran and Nana. They'll be glad to see you." Nikko gave Pit a kiss on the cheek goodbye, taking his children with him, looking for a backroad to avoid the crowd.

When they were gone Pit opened the front door, quickly letting the other victors in. She was amazed by how the Victors stuck together by District as they were walking, but could understand the comradery of having come from the same place.

First in the door was District Nine's Vale Dimitrov, who won the Eighty-ninth Games. He hated the cameras, and hated mentoring as he his district's only living Victor. For six years now he had sat and lost both of his tributes, no matter how hard he tried. He still did his best, but hadn't gotten a tribute out yet. He gave a brief nod of greeting, mostly looking relieved to be out of the crowd. Noa Ernest followed shortly behind him, not sure who else they should walk with. Besides, maybe Vale could offer more relevant advice, as he knew what it was like to mentor on his own.

After them came the pair from District Five, mostly because the female victor of the Eighty-fifth Games, Akila Mo, hated crowds. She felt embarrassed at how they stared at her disfigured face, which had been badly damaged in the shower of fireballs that occurred during her finale. Silex Ramon, Victor of the Sixty-first Games followed at a more calm pace.

After that came the pair from District Seven. Johanna Mason, Victor of the Seventy-first Games, wanted nothing to do with her fans and the paparazzi, and shoved into the room, going straight for the food. Adler Shelton, who won seven years after his mentor, felt the same way, except he helped himself to a glass of champagne from one of the two bottles sitting on the counter. He stayed sober for the Games, but they hadn't officially started yet. Then again, he doubted Nikko would appreciate him getting drunk in their house, and Pit would probably make a video and use it to blackmail him. Therefore, he'd have to keep drinking to a minimum.

Next came the mentors from District Three. Geno Haggerman, Victor of the Seventy-third Games, was good with the crowds, though the older he got the less he liked them. His younger mentoring partner, Argon Humphrey, had been extremely popular in his younger days and was also a crowd pleaser, but fourteen years had passed since his victory. Both men walked through the crowd with ease, but were relieved to be in the privacy of their hosts' home.

Next came the mentors of District Eleven. Skeeter Hoffsteader-Rothman, the Victor of the Seventy-ninth Hunger Games, was irritable and hated the crowds. He had once been very sunny, but after losing his best friend in Cato's Games, had completely shut down. Now he could barely stand to be in the same room as the Seventy-fourth Victor, which Pit knew. She had made Cato promise to be civil, and urged the other Victor from Eleven, Thorne Stanton, to ask the same of his fellow mentor. Thorne, who had won the Eighty-seventh Games, did his best, but always felt awkward talking to Skeeter, or anyone really, about such touchy subjects.

Next came Cecelia Leclair of District Eight. She had won the Fifty-eighth Games, and had three adult children. She gladly mentored, having faith in her tributes and treating them as her own children. Following her came Anthony Tidwell, the Victor of the Eighty-eighth Games, thirty years after Cecelia. Once a smiley child called Ant, Anthony had been through many losses. One of the most painful of these had been the death of his ally in his Games, voted the third most heartbreaking death by Capitol viewers. He hated the Capitol, and the Games, and he could still barely look at Geno from Three, considering Ant's brother Zayne had died in Geno's Games. The boy from Eight ran a hand through his coarse dark hair nervously, blue eyes looking around nervously. He hated mentoring, and had to do it every year now. He was estranged from his four surviving siblings, which hurt him most of all.

Following them, the mentors from District Ten, filed in. Abilene Cooper, victor of the Fifty-second Games, was the oldest mentor this year. She took advantage of her experience seriously, and was ready to get down to business. Arlo Greenfield, who had won the Games six years previous came in scowling. He hated this district, it's citizens, and especially it's victors. He refused to work with any career mentor when he could avoid it, and it was up to his mentoring partner, Abi, to smooth out the wrinkles of tension.

Finally, with no living mentors from Twelve, the mentors from One and Four strolled in together. Finnick Odair, who after thirty-one years had remained the youngest victor in Games history, lead the group. He nodded politely to Geno, who waved. Despite the fact that Geno had killed Finnick's tribute, Brock Rutherford in his Games, the two men had a good relationship, only being six years apart in age. King Sumner, one of the mentors for District One, followed close behind. The victor of the Eighty-first Games was genderfluid between male and female, and at the moment presented herself as feminine, having her shoulder-length blonde hair hang loose rather than tied up in a ponytail and holding a crumpled up neck-tie in her fist.

The final Career mentors entered together. Unity Quisenberry of District One and Nimue Wynshaw of District Four had won the Ninety-third and Ninety-fourth Games respectively, and as a result, the two young women knew each other well.

The Victors helped themselves to refreshments, and the cookies were soon gone. Nikko was known for making some damn good cookies.

The first time Pit had been in charge of one of these meetings, she was extremely nervous to be speaking to colleagues older than she, but now felt much more comfortable taking charge. She cleared her throat and took a seat in the parlor.

"Welcome everyone," she said, stuffing her mouth full of food. "To our little weird conference whatever the hell you would call this thing."

"Does it even matter?" interrupted Adler, wanting to get the event over with.

"No, but being a dick isn't going to make it end any sooner." Pit was quick with her retort. With so little Victors that were still young and/or competent, it was easy to figure most of them out and prepare to deal with them. "After all, we still have to give our ever-so wise and sagacious advice to Noa, considering this is her first year doing it and she's kind of on her own here."

Said Victor felt awkward, with all the other eyes upon them, but they nodded.

Anthony just snorted. " _Wise_? I don't think I'd call any of us wise. You think I have any good advice? A lot of us just won with dumb luck." He sent a glare across the room, and the tension was cranked up. "Some people only win because the other tributes have _morals_ and decide to spare them." By now he was just being hostile.

Across the room, Geno from Three tensed. He knew better than to stoop down to Anthony's level, though, and simply added, "Luck is an important factor," before he looked to the others.

"We all have different strategies," said Unity. She turned to Noa. "That's something you should make a note of. You can't look at each tribute you mentor and expect to be able to approach them in the same way."

"Yeah, right," said Arlo, sneering. "Some of us here favor vicious slaughtering and torture." He glared at each Career in the room. At that, Skeeter quickly nodded and threw a glare at Cato, causing even more tension, if possible.

"Yeah, we know you hate Careers," Nimue snapped, who despite living in District Four had been a reaped Career. "Let it go."

"Let's stick to the task at hand rather than argue," said Abi, the oldest Victor present. "I would like to go home and you all are giving me a headache with your squabbling."

"Yes," Geno said pointedly. "Let's grow up and get on with it."

"Honestly, you're acting like my children did when they were in elementary school." Cecelia gave Pit a smile. "Please, Pit, continue."

"Unity's right," Pit said, (causing Skeeter to mutter something about how of course the Career would take the Career's side), "Each tribute is different. They'll have different skill sets, different outlooks, different upbringings. As their mentor, it's your job to tell your tributes how to use what they have. Some might not listen, though."

"The most important thing is that you remember that their deaths are not your fault," Cecelia said gently, glancing at Vale. Everyone knew he took his tributes' deaths personally. It seemed he was always in the Capitol with an appointment to remove new scars.

"Usually it's just your tribute's dumb fault," Cato said nonchalantly, causing Skeeter and Arlo to seethe with rage.

"Or the fault of the Gamemakers," Akila added timidly, surprising even her former mentor, Silex. He nodded in support of her.

"Dumbasses," muttered Johanna, causing some stern looks to be thrown her way.

"Anyways, you'll be doomed if you believe every loss falls on you," Geno said.

Noa nodded, soaking in the advice. "That makes sense."

Vale looked irritated, though. His fists were clenched and he was staring at the floor. The others had tried to get him to see this, and all of them had failed. He still wasn't any better off than he was when he'd first won. The unspoken advice in the room was, " _Don't become like him."_ While Noa felt sorry for the District Nine Victor, she knew she would never be able to change District Six's reputation for the better if she was constantly blaming herself for situations outside her control.

"If you have any questions, ask. Obviously we'll each have tributes of our own to focus on, so we won't tell you _everything,_ but we'll help your first year go smoothly," Pit said. "Which means no sabotaging."

Noa laughed slightly. "I appreciate that."

"I wouldn't believe a Career, if I were you," Skeeter said bitterly, ignoring the scolding looks of the others. Noa, meanwhile, looked a little uncomfortable.

"Not all Careers are nasty," Geno said irritably. "Some of them were forced into it. They're not inherently bad people." He was thinking of the boy from Four in his Games, who had just been lost.

"Yeah, look at me. I'm sweet as sugar cubes," Finnick added jokingly, successfully breaking some of the tension when a handful of the Victors laughed.

" _Sweet as sugar cubes._ Well sometimes that's not enough for some people. So just shut your pretty face because that's the real reason why you won." Anthony crossed his arms, and the temperature seemed to drop as more tension was added again.

Finnick didn't reply. He didn't lose his temper easily, unless someone was threatening his family. He didn't want to argue with Anthony, especially when he was partially right. Instead, he just stared at him for a few second with an unreadable expression.

"Let's not forget who it was that tortured Gidget," Anthony said, his voice rising in volume. "And let's not forget the pretty boy that tortured my brother and laughed about it!"

"Oh, spare me," Geno said, sending him a glare. "Don't you think I have a right to talk about my own Games without your distorted lense?"

"Don't you think I have a right to talk about my own brother?!" The room was silent, the tension was high. Some of the other victors, like Akila, Silex, and Thorne looked uncomfortable, while others like Adler - who was quiet for once - listened on with interest. Johanna was looking for someone to take a bet with her which would be the first to throw a punch. Her mentoring partner quickly agreed.

"Look, I know you're angry, alright? But you need to pipe the fuck down. I didn't kill Zayne, I didn't even touch him when we were in that Arena. This is going to start a feud and you're not going to like it!" Geno talked evenly, in a scolding tone more than anything.

Pit could see this meeting collapsing before her eyes, and that was the last thing she wanted. She stepped in to make the peace. "Can't we please just be mature and everyone just take a chill pill for a second?"

"I'll bet you're used to seeing fights, considering your District romanticizes them!" Skeeter said, and four or five Victors outburst at once after that. Soon, most of the room was shouting and taking sides. Nimue and Unity were defending Pit, while Arlo and Anthony jumped on board Skeeter's argument. Cato was quiet until Skeeter started verbally attacking him, then was yelling louder than most of the others. Abi added to the noise, screaming at everyone to shut up and sit down. Akila muttered something to Pit about using the bathroom and scurried off. Adler and Johanna began chanting and cheering loudly. King pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes. Cecelia was trying to get her fellow mentor to simmer down, exchanging helpless looks with Geno while Argon looked on quietly with a frown. Vale hid away from everyone else in the corner, looking like he'd like to dash to the bathroom (damn Akila already used that excuse). Everyone else just made small talk about the weather or Nikko's cookies, not wanting to be involved.

The first one to throw a punch was Cato, hitting Skeeter straight on the nose. Johanna pouted as she pulled a bill out of her pocket and slipped it into Adler's hand, who smirked. Suddenly, everyone was fighting unlike ever before. Even Pit was screaming curse words, her fighting spirit activated by the arguing.

It felt like they would never escape the fighting and chaos, until someone spoke up and caused them all to turn around with a loud, assertive, "STOP!"

Vale had never raised his voice before until this moment. The others went silent, looking at him, in shock.

The District Nine Victor continued. "What the hell are we _doing?!"_ He looked at the fighting Victors, who looked back shamefully, unclenching their fists. "We're destroying each other like this is Hunger Games Round Two! Isn't once enough?!" He had known what it was like to relive his Games, considering he's been doing it through his tributes for years and years. "You shouldn't be destroying each other over what happened in your specific Arena. It isn't their faults. In case you all forgot, there aren't very many people out there that understand what this life is like. Why are we turning on the few people that understand our pain?! Newsflash, this shit is exactly what the Capitol wants! They want to tear us apart, they want us to feel isolated and alone so that they can keep controlling us like fucking _puppets_! Is that what you guys want!?"

There's a quiet, shameful chorus of "No"s.

"Vale's right. We need to be united," said Argon, speaking up for the first time. "That's the only way we're going to get anywhere."

The quarreling Victors helped each other up and dusted off shamefully. Pit went to the kitchen wordlessly to get some ice packs. Akila, who had silently returned, followed her to help. Vale immediately felt awkward again and embarrassed at the attention, stepping down and hiding in the corner again. It seemed that nobody wanted to be the next one to talk after that. Pit and Akila handed out ice packs to Skeeter, Cato, and Arlo, who had seen the most damage in the fight. Pit stepped up and continued the meeting from where it had left off, and this time it flowed smoothly.

* * *

Vale sat alone on the train. He hadn't talked again since his speech, only answered with shrugs when Pit or another Victor asked him a question. The Victors boarded a few trains in peace, with those from nearby districts riding together. Vale's train included The mentors from Three, Noa, and himself.

Silently, Noa approached him and took a seat. "Nice speech," they said. "I'm glad someone has the guts to do it. I would have, but I didn't think it was really my place as the newbie."

Vale looked up, his expression just as sullen and depressed as always. "Oh…" he mumbled. "Thanks."

They both were quiet for a minute or two before Noa spoke again. "It must be hard, mentoring alone year after year and losing every kid you mentor. How do you keep going?"

Vale stared at the floor for a while, not wanting to look up at her. The truth was that he didn't feel like he could give any kind of advice to Noa without being a hypocrite. He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know."

"I guess you just have to, right? I mean, we're all they have. Besides, I made it out, and all I had was my escort. So one mentor must be better than none. At least we can try to give them hope."

"Hope," he said quietly. "Hope is something you can't fake. You… You should hold onto yours for as long as you possibly can. When you don't have it, your tributes see right through you. You can't get it back."

Noa nodded grimly, not sure what else to say. "Well… good luck to you."

The train pulled to a stop at District Nine. Vale looked like he didn't want to go there and would have rather stayed with Noa, but he got up and gave them a last nod. "I'll see you around."

She gave him a small smile. "Yeah, you too."

He got out of the grain, glancing over his shoulder as the doors closed. He didn't leave for home until the train pulled away. The District Three mentors were dropped off next, giving a brief farewell to Noa.

Alone, the newest Victor sighed. The day was crazy, and it was something she'd rather not repeat. They'd have to see all these victors again in the Mentor room shortly, but hopefully they would all be able to remain civil to each other. Noa knew she'd have enough to worry about with two new tributes to mentor. She didn't need to deal with fights left and right as well. They weren't sure they were ready, but they didn't have much of a choice.

 **A/N: Alright, here we go with the tribute list! Thank you so much to everyone who submitted!** _We're sorry for everyone who wasn't accepted, as some spots had multiple submissions. If you have any questions about why we accepted and declined who we did, please PM one of us, and we'll do our best to explain our reasoning._ **We're excited to get this story moving! Here's the list! :D**

 **District One Female:** Bliss Michalson, 18- IVolunteerAsAuthor

 **District One Male:** Zircon Smith, 17- the victor of panem

 **District Two Female:** Amalissa Blackhorne Vesallius, 18- deathless. smile

 **District Two Male:** Ares Hardy, 18- calebbeers21

 **District Three Female:** Apple Grey, 18- AmericanPi

 **District Three Male:** Marco Maudslay, 18- Kate-The-Great-And-Powerful

 **District Four Female:** Tay Faringdale- Wetstar

 **District Four Male:** Soren Cantarell, 18- Sinfonian Legend

 **District Five Female:** Iris Solaric, 17- beauthg03

 **District Five Male:** Avery Hayley, 16- Voidlight

 **District Six Female:** Nerrah Salvadore, 17- Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg

 **District Six Male:** Devon Steele, 17- rogueofminds

 **District Seven Female:** Pyra Leyland, 13- Kate-the-Great-and-Powerful

 **District Seven Male:** Rowen Axton, 17- maddymellark

 **District Eight Female:** Dinah Cambric, 15- Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg

 **District Eight Male:** Maverick Nash, 14- david12341

 **District Nine Female:** Amaranth "Mar" Jane Smith, 15- CrissKenobie-The-Numenorean

 **District Nine Male:** Milo Redtail, 16- Littlefoot876

 **District Ten Female:** Katarina Hubert, 16- youngpatriot

 **District Ten Male:** Everett Dyer, 17- The United Districts of Panem

 **District Eleven Female:** Alisha "Ali" Morwelder, 14- DrakonOwl21195

 **District Eleven Male:** Thoreau "Thor" Abdulrashid

 **District Twelve Female:** Brooklyn Bay, 14- david12341

 **District Twelve Male:** Russet "Russ" Hem, 17- AKLNxStories


	4. Districts 1 and 12 Reapings

**District 1 and 12 Reapings**

* * *

 **Bliss Michalson, District One Female, 18**

 _IVolunteerAsAuthor_

Bliss opened her eyes to find herself not in her own bed, but in a bed in the Academy, surrounded by her posse of girls. As the selected female volunteer for the Ninety-sixth Hunger Games, she and her future district partner, Zircon Smith, were allowed to have a lock-in sleepover in the Academy in celebration of their successes. They could invite anyone they wanted. For Bliss, that meant her group of followers - Shimmer, Hera, and Blisster. Zircon had only his best friend, Topaz, and they were in the neighboring room.

With the other girls still asleep, Bliss took the opportunity to prepare herself for the reaping. She was a petite girl, standing at five foot three, but she knew how to make herself appear more intimidating with make-up and the right outfit. By the time she put on her dress and heels and ran a brush through her short blonde hair, the other girls began to stir.

"Oh, Bliss, today's your special day," Hera cooed in a loud voice, fully waking her companions. "Are you excited?"

"Of course she is," said Blisster. The girl's real name was also Bliss, but Bliss, the Queen Bee of the group, had made her go by the nickname. Blisster was too weak, both in will and physically, to protest. "You're so lucky, Bliss!"

"I hope you win!" Hera said.

"Of course I will. How could I not?" Bliss hoped she sounded as confident as she acted, and not as unconfident as she felt. Despite how nervous she was that something would go horribly wrong, either during the reaping or in the arena, she had to hide her fears away and act like the tough District One volunteer she was meant to be.

Shimmer nodded. "She can do it if she remembers everything she learned in training all these years."

"Hurry up and get dressed," said Bliss. "I need to meet Zircon, Head Trainer Warren, and Mayor Stowers in forty-five minutes. As friends of the volunteer you all need to look your best."

In a period of time that was shorter than that for an average group of teenage girls in District One to prepare themselves for the day, the girls were ready and out the door. They made their way to the main training room, where a row of chairs were lined up in front of the stage where announcements were usually made.

Zircon and Topaz were waiting for them. As the chosen volunteer, Zircon had the look of a typical One male, with his shaggy, ashy blonde hair and blue eyes. Unlike Bliss, he was tall, standing close to a foot above her.

"Good Morning, Bliss," her district partner said cheerfully, flashing her a smile.

Bliss nodded curtly. "Smith."

As the girls took their places, Head Trainer Warren stepped up to the podium. Bliss expected his speech to be short. Warren was definitely a man of few words. He did not disappoint.

"Good morning volunteers," said the balding man, "and congratulations. You will bring our district honor from the time your voice is heard at the reaping. You have waited years for this moment. Do not disappoint us. Here is our mayor, Mayor Gravity Stowers. Show him respect."

Warren stepped down, and Stowers took his place. He was a tall man, and still strongly built from visiting the Academy on occasion to train with the students. He had meant to volunteer for the Eighty-fourth Games at age eighteen, but had been reaped and volunteered for by a boy who had dropped out of training and seemingly came out of nowhere. The mayor had curly brown hair and gentle green eyes that many girls and some boys giggled over.

"Ugh, he is so cute that it's unfair," Hera whispered loudly.

Hearing this, Stowers turned his head in her direction and stared at her blankly for a few seconds before turning back to the microphone, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Right then. Good morning."

"Good morning, Sir," the group answered in unison, just as they had been taught.

"So, it's a big day today, for two of you. Will Ms. Bliss Michalson and Mr. Zircon Smith stand, please?"

They stood and Stowers nodded in approval. "Great! Have a seat." He paused, allowing them to do so. "I know you are going to bring pride to District One. As you know, this is a huge honor, and you only get one shot at it. You know, some people aren't as lucky as you to have this opportunity." He paused, and Bliss had an idea she knew where this was going. "I was just like you twelve years ago. Young, in my prime and set to volunteer. " His eyes betrayed an emotion that could have been relief, or regret, or even hurt. "Then I was reaped, and the path to victory was stolen away by an Academy _dropout_ of all people, Callum Ainsworth." The mayor let out a sigh at that, trying not to seem hostile. After all, the man had moved on, and his new position was nothing to snuff at.

Zircon looked like he was about to speak up, but seemed to think better of it.

"So yeah, don't take being the selected volunteer for granted. Be prepared. Fight hard. All that good stuff. Also, don't fuck up. That's the most important advice I can give you."

At that, Shimmer smirked and Blisster snickered, covering her mouth to hide it. Stowers gave them a stern look. "I'm serious. Don't fuck up. That covers anything else I could possibly say!"

Shimmer nodded seriously. "Yessir. You can count on Bliss."

Stowers grinned. "Good. Now, I think that's all I have. We don't want our volunteers to be late… or, you know, the mayor." He chuckled to himself, but no one else laughed. "Alright, alright. Off you go. I know I'll say this at the reaping, but I mean it truly. May the odds be ever in your favor."

The six students broke off, with Zircon and Topaz striding ahead of them, and Bliss and her group hanging back a little. As she walked, Bliss noticed the glances of strangers on her, but she knew most of them had no idea who she was. She was small, and didn't look like much. If anything, they knew the selected volunteer only by name. Most people probably looked at all the teenagers who walked by, admiring the outfits they wore and wondering if they'd be fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the volunteers before the reaping.

As her friends chatted, Bliss remained relatively silent. Her stomach ached slightly with nerves. She couldn't afford for anything to go wrong. However, not matter how high her level anxiety grew, nothing would deter her from volunteering today. Bliss had trained for years for this moment, and wasn't about to throw it all away.

She wasn't volunteering just for herself, however. She was also volunteering for her aunt, Majesty. Bliss had lived with Aunt Majesty since she was fourteen, but the two had a close relationship even before Bliss moved in with her. Aunt Majesty had dreamed of volunteering when she was younger, but had never been given the opportunity. If Bliss won the Games, she'd be winning not only for herself, but for her aunt as well.

Because Bliss lived with her aunt, many of her peers, even her friends, assumed she was an orphan. Although this was far from the truth, Bliss figured she might as well be orphaned. She rarely saw her parents nowadays, and had very little desire to do so. The pair of them were cowards, hiding away in a tiny commune, and sheltered from the rest of the district. The residents of this commune, which many would call a cult, were mostly unaware of the events in the outside world. Bliss doubted her parents had any idea she was volunteering today, not that she cared.

With their fingers pricked and their names checked off the list, the four young women headed to the section of other eighteen-year-old females. As usually, the crowd of teenagers was alive with excitement, with many of them eager to get on with the reaping. At last, Mayor Stowers arrived on stage. Bliss listened to him give a speech similar to the one he gave at the Academy. Then, he called the escort to the stage. The annual video rolled by on the screen, and Bliss couldn't help but say the long-ago memorized lines in her head.

Bliss held her breath as the escort reached into the bowl. She couldn't help herself. Her moment was only seconds away. She was really volunteering.

"Patience Bentley!"

"I volunteer!" Bliss shouted, not really caring who the reaped girl was. She recognized the name as a belonging to a girl her age, who was in fourth or fifth place in the Academy. Bliss didn't know her well as they didn't hang out in the same crowds, but it didn't matter. This wasn't Patience's big moment. No, the moment belonged to Bliss, and she was determined to make it count. She strided quickly to the stage with her head held high, pleased that she had no one challenging her this year.

"A volunteer, as usual," the escort said once Bliss arrived on stage. "Tell us your name!"

"Bliss. Bliss Michalson." She smiled, hoping she didn't look fake or nervous doing so. The escort smiled back.

"Wonderful. And now for the male." She dug around in the male's bowl. "Gold Karlen!"

"I volunteer!" A voice shouted out from the crowd loud and clear. Fortunately, it was Zircon, and not someone trying to steal his place. With no competition, he was able to take his time to the stage, confidence evident in each step. He was almost to the stage when suddenly a boy from the section of twelve-year-olds stepped out in front of him.

"Wait!"

To Bliss's surprise Zircon actually paused. Many other boys would have just shoved the little kid over and went on their way. "Excuse me, kid, but I'm trying to get to the stage…" Zircon was fairly quiet, but Bliss could still hear him from where she stood.

"Oh, I know," said the little boy. "It's just I'm Gold Karlen! You volunteered for me. I just want to say hi to the camera, alright? Okay." He turned towards the camera crew and waved furiously. "Hi Panem! Hi Capitolities! I'm Gold Karlen, and I'm going to volunteer someday just like this guy, so you remember my name, alright? Great! Bye then!"

Gold slipped back into his place, and a slightly stunned Zircon finally stepped onto the stage.

"Well, that was interesting," said the escort and Zircon nodded. "So clearly, you aren't Gold Karlen. What's your name, then?"

"Zircon Smith."

"Wonderful! District One, your tributes, Bliss Michalson and Zircon Smith!"

Bliss and Zircon shook hands as the crowd erupted into cheers. Then, they were escorted into separate rooms to await their goodbyes. Bliss didn't expect many visitors. Only her friends and Aunt Majesty were likely to show.

Shimmer, Hera, and Blisster were her first guests. As expected, they gushed over her just as they had before the reaping and showered her with compliments. When they left, Bliss didn't feel even the slightest bit sad. If - no, when, she had to say when - she won, she'd live in a completely different world from them. Bliss would be a celebrity, and the others would continue on as ordinary District One women, throwing and attending parties and gossiping with and about other women together. Bliss doubted she'd even miss them.

Aunt Majesty came in next. "Bliss, I am so proud of you," she said, giving her niece a brief but firm hug.

"Thank you, Aunt Majesty, and thanks for coming to visit. I know you're busy." Aunt Majesty was a politician, with aspirations to become a Capitol Ambassador one day, which was one of the highest paying positions available in District One. As such, she was constantly trying to keep up her appearance and make just the right connections.

"I'm never too busy to congratulate my favorite niece, you know," said Aunt Majesty. "You're my biggest blessing."

Bliss smiled genuinely. "I'm glad."

"Now, go show the world what you're made of. I know what you're capable of, and I've had faith in you ever since you were a little girl. You'll come home."

"Thank you, that means a lot," Bliss replied. The two women spent the rest of their time with small talk, and too soon, a Peacekeeper arrived to escort Aunt Majesty away.

"I love you, dear."

"I love you, too, Aunt Majesty."

Then she was gone, and Bliss was left alone with nothing but her thoughts until her escort came to collect her.

* * *

 **Russet "Russ" Hem, District 12 Male, 17**

 _AKLNxStories_

When Russ woke up, he was smiling.

He still wasn't particularly sure why he was, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that he was happy, always smiling. Happiness was the only thing that mattered.

He didn't stop smiling as he tried to dive back into his dreams, trying to find the one thing that made him this way. He just couldn't figure it out, though, and eventually sat up and rubbed his eyes, defeated. Of course, that wouldn't ruin his disposition. Nothing could shatter that. If his mind was full of jokes, there would be no room for the traumatizing memories that he hid under heaps and heaps of fluff.

Russ's house wasn't very big, of course, but it didn't have to be. After all, there was only room for two people. No room for ghosts or memories. Just room for Russ and Grandma. That was all. And, for two people, the house suited them just fine.

Russ's tongue found a hole in his mouth, just as it did every morning. _Yes, that's right_ , Russ thought. _The tooth fairy didn't give me any money for that._ Said tooth had been removed in the Square, when it had been knocked by a Peacekeeper and put under Russ's pillow. Maybe Russ should have thanked the Peacekeeper for trying to give him some more money, but he hadn't seen much of him since. Besides, seeing as Grandma didn't do much cleaning anymore, the tooth was still there, and Russ had no extra money.

Russ checked under his pillow again with the hopes of finding a coin under, but was once again disappointed. But no, not even a neglectful tooth fairy would ruin his sunny disposition. After all, there was always tomorrow morning. Maybe the fairy just had a busy schedule that night, and missed him by mistake. Russ was still smiling as he got out of bed.

He made his bed, knowing that Grandma would appreciate it if he did it. He wanted to help. He wanted to make her smile, too. She so rarely did.

After that, Russ went to the tiny room they called a bathroom. He splashed his face with the weak stream of lukewarm water and told himself that today was a new day. Just like every day. It was a new day of life, living. He was lucky. He had something that a lot of people didn't. Something that a lot of people took for granted.

Russ was glad to be living. He was glad that he could see each morning. He liked feeling tired, he liked feeling groggy, because at least he was alive. He greeted the world with a smile every day. It was really the only way he could keep on going.

Russ put on his reaping clothes. They were old and smudged with the same coal dust that affected each and every person, animal, object, and article of clothing of his native District. Even though he had been brought up in the poorest District in Panem, Russ wasn't angry or upset. Maybe he would have been, a while back, but at that point he was just glad to be breathing.

Russ hummed a song that he'd heard sung around the District as he walked to the kitchen to say good morning to Grandma.

Grandma wasn't in the kitchen when Russ arrived. If you would call the small room with two small cabinets, a tiny table with two chairs, and one small counter a kitchen.

That was alright, though. The kitchen was just the perfect size. The small cabinets were usually at least half full. The table was just the right size for Russ and Grandma. It was all they needed.

Russ grabbed himself a slice of bread for breakfast and ate happily. Eating meant he was alive, after all. As he ate, he wandered away from the table, still humming to himself, and walked to the tiny little living room that was attached to the kitchen. That was where he found Grandma. She was sitting on a rickety old rocking chair, going back and forth, back and forth.

Russ was not allowed to sit there, because when he did he would rock and rock, faster and faster, always going faster, squealing and laughing happily. Russ didn't want to go slow, he wanted to go really really fast! Grandma had yelled at him for that, though, and after that Russ wasn't allowed to sit in the chair anymore.

But today, Grandma sat on the chair. She was rocking back and forth nice and slow, and she had a picture in her hands. She was staring at the picture. The picture was the only picture that had ever been taken of the entire family together. Russ hated to look at it. Grandma looked at it all the time.

Russ hated to see Grandma so depressed, barely wanting to get out of bed, always sad and exhausted, the hollow look in her eyes. Russ wanted to see her happy like he was. He was just wondering why she wouldn't just do what he did, and never feel the sadness of loss. Why she didn't just laugh and smile it all away. Why she still held on so tightly to specters.

Russ was the exact opposite of her. He put it all behind him as soon as it happened, and hadn't shed one tear over any of it. Instead, he entertained himself with songs, jokes, and overall happiness to shut it all away.

"Hi Grandma!" he said cheerfully, sitting down on a chair that didn't rock. Every morning, Russ was happy to see her. He was glad to see her breathing and living, even if she looked like she was dead. He knew he was incredibly lucky to have his grandmother alive, as so few people in District Twelve did. She was a fighter, and he was proud to be related to her.

"Good morning Russet," the old lady said, rocking back and forth and looking up and away from the picture at her only surviving grandchild. Their number had gone from six to one in a matter of hours, maybe even minutes. She used to smile at him and ask how he'd slept, but even that action had just become too much. Russ very rarely saw Grandma doing much of anything except for rocking the chair, back and forth, back and forth.

Russ was soon bored with her and got back up on his feet, energy pulsing through him. Russ just wanted to move. He didn't go to work that morning, though he usually spent his days in the mines. He didn't mind dropping out of school, because he was never very great at that. He would try to listen and learn, but the teacher would go on and on, and Russ would just get bored and zone out. He had so much energy, and he just didn't know what to do with it all.

Usually working helped with that, but Russ's coworkers were annoyed with him when he couldn't stay still at one place, instead getting bored at the lack of progress and moving to a different spot. Either way, Russ liked to work. He liked the feeling of achievement he got when he was paid at the end of the day. Even if it wasn't much, it was money. Money meant food. Food meant life. Life was good.

"Need help with anything Grandma?" Russ asked. He loved to help out. He loved to do things, especially tasks around the house, which were small bursts that didn't usually take very long. They kept him entertained and ended before he could get bored and drop everything.

"No, thank you Russ. How about you go see your friends before the reaping?"

 _Friends_. The word struck a bit of a nerve. For a second, Russ's lips went into a crooked kind of scowl. He didn't want to be mad, so he thought about that time that he saw one of the merchants slip on a wet floor, and quickly replaced that with a laugh. No more pain. Just laughter, happiness.

"Sure," Russ said. Truth was that he didn't actually have any friends. He had some, but they were all swept away, just like his family. Nowadays, even though Russ smiled at every single person he saw, he never received any smiles back. That wouldn't stop Russ from trying, though. He gave his small, thin, frail grandmother a hug, and picked up his prized possession, the wedding rings of his parents, that have been welded together. He took it everywhere he went.

Russ walked from his small house to the Square. The main area where the reapings are held was surrounded by little shops. Russ knew that he had no money to buy anything, but that wouldn't stop him from looking around. Why should it? He went all around, looking in pawn shops, little clothes stores, laundry places, and, of course, the bakery.

The baker was a kind man named Peeta Mellark, and he was extremely good at what he did. Russ loved to walk past and see the beautiful cakes in the window, on display. Russ vowed that one day, he would have enough money to buy a cake.

It began when he was walking with his youngest brother, a boy full of hopes and life and love. His eyes, hazel like his oldest brother's, had marvelled at the cakes in the window. Russ wanted to buy him one for his birthday. He was saving.

He almost had enough for the cake.

Russ was holding his hand and walking to the Square, telling his brother that he was going to buy him a cake from the bakery for his sixth birthday. The little boy squealed and giggled. His eyes were lively and alight. He smiled and told Russ he was the best big brother ever.

That was right before he died. Before Russ was left money that would've been used for a sixth birthday cake was taken out of the jar and used for the funeral. Russ turned away quickly.

 _What did the father buffalo say to his son on the first day of school?_

 _Bison._

Russ laughed out loud. That one always got him.

He turned away from the bakery and started to walk to the reaping.

He was checked in and went to the seventeen-year-old section for males. He looked around at the other boys. They were quiet and sullen. Russ was the only one of them who was smiling. He flashed a smile at them all, and didn't stop even when they looked like they might cry.

Suddenly, Russ caught the eye of a seventeen-year-old boy in his section, who saw his smile and gave a weak smile back. Russ lit up at that, the fact that he made a boy his age happy. He had pretty eyes, too. Golden, it looks like. He had shaggy dark hair and olive skin. Russ's smile went to a beam as the boy turned back around when Effie Trinket began the reaping.

The woman, all dressed in pink, greeted the District just as cheerfully as always. Russ respected her, seeing how she was so obviously affected by the death of District Twelve's last living Victor, Haymitch Abernathy. She played the video, and then spoke.

"Welcome, District Twelve, to the reaping for the Ninety-sixth Games!" She smiled. Everyone was quiet as she walked to the bowl for girls and picked a name. She walked back to the microphone, cleared her throat, and read loud and clear: "Brooklyn Bay!"

There was a pause. A long pause. Just then, a girl was shoved out from the section for fourteen-year-olds. She had light brown hair in a pixie cut, and brown eyes that were wide with shock. She made her way slowly to the stage, and Russ noticed she didn't look thin or starving like a lot of people of the District did. The look of shock remained as Effie walked over to pick the boy.

"Russet Hem!" Russ blinked in surprise as all eyes turned on him, including those golden eyes of the boy that smiled back at him. Suddenly, everything started to crash down as Russ realized that he was reaped for the Hunger Games. He started to walk to the stage slowly.

Russ wanted to make himself laugh. He had to smile to prevent from bursting into sobs.

 _I'd like to buy a new boomerang please. Also, can you tell me how to throw the old one away?_ Russ laughed. Putting one foot in front of the other became easier.

 _Do you know what you can hold without ever touching it?_

 _A conversation._

Russ laughed harder as he walked up the steps.

 _I'm selling my talking parrot. Why? Because yesterday, the bastard tried to sell me._

Russ was laughing loudly by the time he was up with Effie and shaking Brooklyn's hand. Her eyes were swarming with confusion, shock, and fear as they were escorted back into the Justice Building.

Russ's only visitor was his grandmother. Liana Hem came in and hugged her grandson. She was crying as she held onto her last grandchild.

"Don't worry Grandma, I'll make it home," Russ said, his voice light and gentle as she hugged him. Her hug was light and weak like she was. Russ knew that she'd be dead in a matter of weeks if he didn't make it back soon.

"I love you, Russ," she said quietly, bidding farewell to her oldest grandchild, the only survivor. When Peacekeepers came and pulled her away, Russ's head swam with memories of that day, that horrible, fateful day, that day he lost everything.

 _Why did the duck cross the road?_

 _To prove he wasn't chicken!_

Russ laughed.

That one got him every time.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Here are the first reapings! We will be doing every reaping chapter like this, with Districts Two and Eleven paired together next, then Three and Ten, etc. for a total of six reaping chapters, the way I (Dreamer) did with my SYOT. That way, we won't get tired of writing reapings as easily._ **Hopefully. Because I (Celtic) have done all 24 reapings before and that was a bad mistake.** _Also, you may have noticed the District One escort is a bit ambiguous. This is because we are accepting some escort submissions! Check Celtic's profile for the form and list of available escorts! :)_ **We hope you submit escorts and that you liked your chapter! Reviews are much appreciated!**

 **OH WAIT I just remembered! I (Celtic) am going to do drawings for each tribute as they get POVs, and they shall be posted on a blog that I shall create in like five seconds called champion - of - destruction - 96 . blogspot . com (minus spaces)**

 _ **Chapter Question: Maybe it's lame, but: Which of these two did you like better and why?**_


	5. Districts 2 and 11 Reapings

**Districts Two and Eleven Reapings**

* * *

 **Ares Hardy, District Two Male, 18**

 _calebbeers21_

Ares was in the Training Center when the sun came up that morning.

The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking around before remembering where he was. He was in the Training Center, and today would be the day he made history. He would be lying if he said he didn't like waking up on his own, without his disgustingly overbearing mother and stoic, detached father there to greet him. He knew that this day would go down in history books, he was going to make sure that District Two kids would learn about him at school. He wanted to be in the books he'd spent some time skimming last night. He knew he had it in him.

He couldn't wait to get this started.

He had stayed up almost all night training, preparing for his big day and being sure everything was in place. Well, towards the end, it became less training and more forcing his sparring partner Rufus into submission.

Ares always welcomed a challenge, because of course he always won. Unlike other people, Ares didn't fool around. He was the only person he could see that put everything he was into this. If he won the Games, he could live the rest of his life doing what he loved: training, beating the shit out of little bitches that thought they were hot stuff, and never have to step a foot in his old neighborhood again. That was the best part of course.

"Hey…" said a groggy voice. Ares looked over at the short, stocky boy that was his best friend. His hair was everywhere, and his eyes were awake and he looked ready to chat his friends' ears off, just as he always did.

"Morning George," Ares said, yawning again and causing his best friend to do the same.

"Yawns are contagious, isn't that so weird? Like, it's not a disease or anything, it's just a yawn. That's like a mirroring condition, I dunno it's weird. Don't you think, Ares?"

"Yeah, sure." Sometimes his friend annoyed him and pushed his buttons. However,George would chatter about anything, making him an open book about the affairs of himself and others, which Ares liked about him. He liked to know things about others. With that kind of information, he could reduce anyone to nothing, which was one of his favorite past times.

Everyone around knew not to challenge Ares Hardy to a fight. He would make you regret it. He was ruthless, after all. Nobody knew that better than Rufus, who woke up last, covered with bruises and sore from the beatings he'd taken last night. He was more like Ares, and Ares respected the fact that he always got back up. Though it annoyed Ares that he couldn't actually force his friend into total submission, he figured that someday Rufus would reach the breaking point. He was waiting for that day, knowing that the satisfaction from finally forcing Rufus to his knees would be worth all the effort.

Rufus got up to get dressed silently, his face contorting as sore muscles started to complain. He tried to hide it, though, as he put his shirt on and stepped into pants. Ares looked at his outfit: khaki shorts and a polo shirt, and realized how casually he was dressed.

"Oi Rufus, why don't you just wear your damn school clothes?" Ares asked, causing the boy to look up, surprised he was being talked at so early in the morning.

"It's your day," the seventeen-year-old mumbled, "Not mine."

"What if you're reaped, though?" George asked, shifting so he was upside down in the bed and peering at the other boys. "That's why I dressed up. Actually, my father got me this tie for my last reaping, see? It's silk. It was made in District 8 by hand with fabric that was-"

Ares stopped listening. The truth was that he hated when George talked about his family so fondly, especially his damn father, who always seemed to be taking pride in his son and giving him things. Ares hated that about his friend, the fact that he was a spoiled brat that got the ground he walked on praised. Some people like Ares and Rufus (but mostly Ares) had to work damn hard to be recognized. He put in more hours of training than anyone. He was the one that did the work. He was going to be a Victor, and then he'd be praised just as much as George, even more! They'd see.

Ares let George go on and on, no longer listening to whatever the bastard had to say. Truth was that he just didn't care to hear about how many people were all over George. Rufus seemed to be the same way, because he didn't even comb his hair before making a quick escape to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Ares cursed under his breath as he buttoned up his shirt, wishing he'd gone first while he could. George kept talking, blissfully unaware that Ares was about to sock him right in the damn mouth if he said one more thing.

George started on a topic that interested him soon enough, though.

"Did you hear about what happened to Kylee Strauss?"

"She broke her leg." Ares had sparred with her before, as she was very dedicated and serious about volunteering. "She can't volunteer."

"I heard she did it on purpose," George said, peering up at Ares from where he was upside down. "I heard Head Trainer Fiore talking about it."

Ares raised an eyebrow. "Surely not."

"I'm only telling you what I heard," George said. "He said that she was a disgrace, he was telling Trainer Patterson about how a Peacekeeper hurt his leg on his reaping day and he was faced with humiliation, meanwhile she breaks her own leg intentionally and she almost got away with it. I think her boyfriend dumped her over it, though."

Ares laughed. That was _hilarious_! Definitely the best thing to come out of George's mouth all damn morning! "What a coward," Ares chuckled. "I wonder if she _actually_ thought she could get away with it."

"Who knows?" George sighed.

"Well, this girl talks a big game but if I can force the first place girl into submission, surely she won't be that hard to dominate either."

"You got this!" George said as Rufus came out from the bathroom, hair still as messy as it had been when he entered. Ares was still chuckling as he went into the bathroom and prepared for the day. He used gel to style the blond bangs out of his blue eyes, heading downstairs just as a banquet was being started to celebrate the volunteers.

When Head Trainer Fiore came over, Ares noticed his slight limp for the first time. He congratulated Ares and gave Rufus a pat on the shoulder, making him promise he'd work hard to be in this spot next year. Head Trainer Fiore really wasn't that bad of a guy, it seemed. His daughter, who was only eight years old, was the top of her age, and had the same passion for training that her father did.

Ares kept an eye out for Amalissa, the new female volunteer, the whole time, watching her every move. He had Kylee figured out, but this was a new challenge. He felt prepared, though.

After the feast, the group of teens walked in a herd to the reaping, all of them chattering cheerfully. Ares and George said goodbye to Rufus before they went to the eighteen-year-old section, and Rufus to stand with the seventeen-year-olds.

Ares waited impatiently as the mayor talked on and on, and the video lagged by. He didn't really start listening until the escort, had taken the stage.

"Welcome everyone!" he said. He was new, but Ares could tell from the intricately-detailed leather jacket he wore that he had money. He was wearing shades and had long gray hair put back in a braid with a scraggly beard of the same color on his chin. "Yes, welcome welcome. I'm Lord Clovander Handsome, your new- what now, oh yes the tributes- let's choose our lucky tributes!" Ares exchanged a look with George as the strange man went to the girls' bowl first.

"Yes, right, our tribute." He crinkled the paper in his fingers. "And that'll be… Hai Gratius!" There was a pause as the girl walked out slowly from the section for eighteen-year-olds.

"Now for the boy- oh wait, no, not yet- volunteers?"

"I volunteer!" so the second place trainee did it after all. She sounded confident too, strutting up to the stage. Her black hair was in its usual bun on top of her head, her dark brown eyes sparkling with confidence as she walked up to the stage.

"Yes, alright for the boy- no, what's your name again?"

The girl rolled her eyes a bit but kept smiling. "Amalissa Blackthorne Vesallius!"

"So good!" he said as he was walking to the bowl for boys. He picked a name from the top of the bowl and went to the microphone, reading the name loud and clear: "Aeolus Piscius." The reaped boy was fourteen years old, and quickly reached the steps and stopped there as Clovander asked "Any volunteers?"

Ares put on a confident smile, as hard as it was to do, and started strutting to the stage. This was his moment of glory, and he was going to make the most of it. When he got to the stairs, Aeolus was there, his bronze-looking brown eyes wide with admiration as he put his hands up for a high five. Ares gave the boy a clean double high five, causing Aeolus to cheer as Ares made it to the stage. Looking at his District, all of them cheering for him, Ares's heart swelled and he began to cheer with them.

"Your name?" Clovander asked, as Ares was cheering.

"Ares Hardy," the boy said confidently, "Your next Victor!"

"Oo, wow- hands, then, shake them."

Ares shook Amalissa's hand with a grin, which she confidently returned.

Ares went into the Justice Building, and his first visitor was the boy that had been reaped, Aeolus, as was the tradition of District Two. The fourteen-year-old didn't stay long, but he gave Ares all kinds of praise, which boosted the older boy's ego. He promised Aeolus that he'd try to be the younger boy's mentor when he was a Victor and Aeolus was volunteering for the Ninety-Ninth Games.

"As much as I'd like to be the one-hundredth Victor, I don't want to lose my shot because I'm not eligible for a Quell!" he was saying cheerfully. Ares admired the kid's determination.

Ares didn't particularly care to see his parents, but they came in anyways. By the time they arrived, the buzz of volunteering had worn away, and he just wanted to get down to business. He didn't want to waste time on his parents, but he didn't stop them from entering.

"You're going to be the talk of the neighborhood," his mother was saying. Ares thought he and George could've been half-brothers, his mother was so talkative. She wasn't innocent, though, she usually knew when she was gossiping. She always talked about people neither Ares nor his father knew, and frankly, neither of them cared.

"Oh, my son, the volunteer!" she gushed and hugged him. Ares couldn't help but feel uncomfortable, almost like a stranger was hugging him. Neither of his parents showed any kind of affection for him.

"You know what to do Ares," his father said gruffly. He was a man of few words, but Ares still wanted to make him proud like George made _his_ father. With that, his father nodded and left, his mother bouncing after him and chattering.

George and Rufus came in together after that.

"That was awesome, man!" George said, "I would totally bet on you!

"Thanks," Ares mumbled. He wanted to be in the Training Room in the Capitol.

"I guess we'll see you tonight during chariots," George said, and kept on going. Rufus didn't say anything, instead just exchanging a meaningful look with his friend and sparring partner and leaving it at that. Ares appreciated that, though.

"Good luck in there, Ares!" George said, after at least a minute of him going non-stop. "You can do it!"

 _Of course I can, you dumbass_ , Ares thought, but he didn't say anything as Rufus waved and they left together.

Clovander soon came to retrieve Ares, and soon he and his District partner were on the train, zooming away from home to arrive at the Capitol.

* * *

 **Alisha "Ali" Morwelder, District Eleven Female, 12  
** _DrakonOwl21195_

Although the reaping for her district wasn't until the afternoon, Ali was up bright and early. She sat in bed with the covers still pulled up to her stomach, reading a book on Ancient Greek Mythology She had trouble concentrating, though, as today would be her first reaping. Ever since she had first seen the Games on the television screen, Ali had been terrified of them. Ali withdrew into herself from that moment forward, living in fear. Now that she was of reaping age, that fear had only swelled.

Ali lifted her eyes from her book to glance at the clock on her nightstand. It was just past nine o'clock, and her older sister, Mackenzie, had gotten out of the bed beside Ali nearly an hour previous. Besides, she was getting hungry. Ali folded back the covers and slid on her purple-rimmed glasses, before heading out to the kitchen for some breakfast.

Ali's parents and sisters were all already in the kitchen. Her mother was spooning hot oatmeal into bowls, and her father and sisters were gathered around the table. Mackenzie, who was two years older than Ali, was reading a comic book, and nine-year-old Jillian was humming loudly, swinging her legs. Melly, the youngest, wiggled in her chair.

Ali's dad looked up, smiling as he saw her. "Good morning, Ali."

"Morning." Ali sat down and ate her breakfast, while half-listening to Jillian's constant chatter.

"Mom, Dad, is it okay if I go to Nadia's house before the reaping?" Ali asked.

"Alright," said her mom, "but make sure you girls are at the wagon. I don't want you late."

"Yes, Ma'am." Ali carried her bowl to the sink and rinsed it out before returning to her room and closing the door. She pulled on a deep red dress that Mackenzie had outgrown and braided her wavy, waist-length black hair into a single braid. She reached into a box on top of her dresser and pulled out her chain necklace. The necklace carried two charms on it: one was an owl, Ali's favorite, the other was a silver bow and arrow. Waving goodbye to her family, Ali slipped out the door.

When Ali arrived at Nadia's house, their friend Ellia was already there. It wasn't surprising, as Ellia only lived a few houses down. Ellia and Nadia had been friends since they were little, and had met Ali later on when the three girls were seven-years-old.

"Come on, Ellia, stop!" Nadia giggled, waving a book away from Ellia, who was trying to grab hold of it. "I'm at a good part!"

"But books are boring!" Ellia groaned. "I don't get why you and Ali find them so interesting!"

"Oh, hi Ali!" said Nadia, noticing her friend standing in the doorway. "Sorry, Ellia's trying to take my book."

"Only because she wasn't listening to me," said Ellia with a grin. "I was bored."

Ali laughed. If only Ellia shared her and Nadia's love of reading. Then she might understand.

"Well, now that Ali's here, let's go up to my room."

Ali and Ellia nodded, following Nadia to her room. There, the girls chatted about everything from school to crushes to the pretty updo Ellia had put her hair in. After a few hours of pre-teen chatter, Nadia's mom called for them to get ready to leave for the reaping. Ali swallowed hard, wishing she could stay with Nadia and Ellia all day and not have to worry about the reaping.

Ali walked with Nadia and Ellia on either side of her. The three girls didn't say much as the walked to the wagon that would take them to the square. Because District Eleven was so large, most citizens had to take a wagon to the reaping. Fortunately, Ali, Nadia, Ellia, and their families lived only a forty-five minutes' ride from the square. Many people had to leave early in the morning to arrive at the reaping, some even the day before.

By the time Ali and her friends arrived at the wagon, her family was already there. From a bench on the wagon, a boy around Ali's age waved to them, and Ali offered him a shy smile in return. It was Marcos, Ali's neighbor. He was also the sweetest, funniest guy Ali had ever met. Ellia nudged her side gently, well aware of Ali's crush on the boy. Ali blushed, staring at the ground as she, Nadia, and Ellia climbed onto the wagon and sat directed across from Marcos.

The ride down the dirt road was bumpy and Ali had to clutch onto the wooden railing of the wagon to avoid slipping off the bench. As the wagon bounced down the road, fields turned into storage facilities and processing plants as the District became more urbanized. Ali knew this meant the Justice Building was not far. The tallest building in District Eleven soon came into view, and Ali felt a jerk as the wagon came to a sudden stop before it.

"Everyone off," the driver of the wagon said gruffly, opening the back end to let off the passengers.

Carefully, Ali hopped down to the ground and waited for her friends before getting in line to check in. She stood in line quietly, hoping she'd be able to get through the reaping without passing out or throwing up like she felt like doing. She watched as a girl a few people ahead of her have her finger pricked. The girl winced, and Ali's stomach did a flip. This was too frightening, with the threat of going into the Games so horrifyingly real.

"Don't worry," Mackenzie whispered to Ali from behind. "The finger prick only stings for a minute, and as for the reaping, we have less than ten slips between us. Many people have far more than that just on their own."

"Yeah, that's true. Thanks Mackenzie." Ali tried to sound braver than she felt. Her sister's words were of little comfort to her. She tried not to look at the needle as the Peacekeeper checked her in.

Mackenzie gave Ali a quick hug. "I'll see you after the reaping, alright?"

Ali nodded, and followed Nadia and Ellia to the section for twelve-year-old females. The mayor gave a speech, and then played the annual video on the screen. Ali took each of her friend's hands and stared at the ground, wanting the video to end. Eventually, it was over, and the escort, Essylt Licinus took the podium. At age twenty-one, this was Essylt's second year in District Eleven, and she looked none too happy to be there. Ali thought Essylt looked very strange, even for a Capitolite. She had a large, bleach blonde globe of hair balanced on the top of her head, and bright green eyes. She also had pale blue skin, and her fingertips ended with unnaturally long, black nails. She was dressed totally in gold, going for her usual metallic look.

"Let's get started," the escort said in a clipped tone. She strided over to the females' bowl, holding her head high in superiority. She reached her hand into the bowl and quickly drew a slip containing a single doomed name. "Alisha Morwelder!"

Ali froze, inhaling sharply. Beside her, she heard Nadia gasp. "Ali… it's you…"

Tears sprung into Ali's eyes. She took a tentative step forward as she fought to hold them back. Ali tried not to show her fear as she walked to the stage, but her lips were quivering, and her legs felt like she would collapse before she ever made it. Somehow, though, she did reach the stage, and took her place next to Essylt. The escort didn't even acknowledge her, and instead drew the boy's name from the bowl.

"Thoreau Abdulrashid!"

A boy with brown skin and black hair cut in a buzz-cut stepped out of the sixteen-year-old section. He looked relatively calm as he walked to the stage.

"District Eleven, your tributes are Alisha Morwelder and Thoreau Abdulrashid," Essylt announced. "Tributes, shake hands."

Ali did so nervously. Thoreau, of course, was taller than her, and he was bulkier than the average district Eleven male. He shook her hand briefly, then dropped it, then they both were shoved into the Justice Building. That was when Ali dropped the act of hiding her emotions. She collapsed onto the floor of her room and dissolved into tears.

The door swung open, and Ali's family flowed in. Ali felt the wind knocked out of her as Jillian, messy hair and all, plowed into her. "Ali! I don't want you to die!"

"Jillian, let your sister breathe," said their mother. "Ali, get on your feet and dust yourself off. You'll be alright."

"But M-mom… how can I win?" Ali asked, brushing away tears with the back of her hand. "I'm only twelve."

"You are going to do your best and never give up. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, mom."

Ali's mother's arms encircled her, and Ali let herself sink into the embrace. "We love you, Alisha. Don't ever forget that."

"Have faith, Ali," said her father, hugging her again. "Nothing is impossible."

Mackenzie nodded. "Come home to us, Ali. I have three little sisters. I don't want that to change."

"I'll try," Ali said quietly. "I have to come home."

"I'll miss you," said Melly. "How long will you be gone?"

Ali hesitated. Being only five years old, Melly didn't realize that only one tribute would ever see their District again. Ali wished that Melly could hold onto that innocence forever. She had been around Melly's age when she first saw the Games, and the event had changed her. She didn't want the same thing to happen to her baby sister.

"I don't know, Melly," Ali said, "But hopefully soon."

Melly gave her sister a hug. "Okay."

Before Ali was ready, the Peacekeepers forced her family from the room, and Nadia and Ellia came in.

"This isn't fair!" Ellia was furious, more so than Ali had ever seen her. "Why did it have to be you?"

"Well, how is it less fair than if you or Nadia were reaped, or any other girl?"

"Still!"

"Ali's right," said Nadia. "It isn't fair for anyone to be reaped, even if it was an eighteen year old. The Games aren't fair."

Ellia sighed. "True. Oh, Ali, just promise you'll come back! You have to."

"I can't promise that, Ellia, and you know it. I can promise that I'll try my best, though."

"Good," said Ellia. "You'd better."

The girls hugged each other and spent the rest of their time trying to cheer each other up, but eventually, they were asked to leave. Ali sat on the couch and waited for Essylt to retrieve her. She didn't expect anyone else, so she was surprised when the door opened again, revealing not her escort, but her final visitor.

"Marcos!"

"Hey, Ali. Can I come in?" Marcos's voice was small and tentative.

"Of course."

Marcos came in, but he didn't take a seat. "I just wanted to wish you luck and to say that I believe in you."

Ali managed a small smile. "Thanks Marcos. That means a lot."

"It's no trouble. Hey, do you have a token?"

Ali nodded. "My necklace." She held up the chain around her neck for him to see.

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure, but, uh... " He took out a hand from behind his back. "I brought this. Just in case you wanted it."

Ali reached out and took the tiny, purple wildflower from him. "Thank you, Marcos," she said softly. "That's so nice of you."

"You're welcome. Listen, I need to go, but… good luck, Ali."

Then he was gone, and Ali left feeling alone and helpless.

* * *

 _ **Authors' Note:**_ **Tada! Another update! We're both in college but managed to come together for an update!** _Hopefully the trend can continue, and we'll be able to update at least once a month if possible. If not, we'll let you know what's happening_ **via the super cool and lame -** _oh, it's not lame, shut up Celtic -_ **blog I made called champion - of - destruction - 96 . blogspot . com !** _._

 _ **Chapter Question: Again, who did you like better and why?**_


	6. Districts 3 and 10 Reapings

**Districts** **Three** **and** **Ten** **Reapings**

* * *

 **Marco Maudslay, District 3 Male, 18**

 _Kate-The-Great-And-Powerful_

When Marco entered the kitchen, he found his twin sister, Bella, scrambling some eggs for breakfast. Being the massive guy he was, his presence was hard to miss, so Bella looked up immediately. "Good morning, Marco."

"Morning," he replied gruffly.

"Will you wake Grandma? Breakfast is almost ready."

Marco nodded and headed to the back of the Maudslays' small apartment, where his grandmother's bedroom was located. Like most homes in Three, their living space was small, but the two bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen, and living room was all Marco, Bella, and their grandmother really needed. Carefully opening his grandmother's door, Marco slipped in and gently shook the eighty-year-old woman's shoulder.

"Grandma, wake up."

After a few good shakes, Marcie Maudslay's eyes fluttered open. She frowned in confusion before realizing it had been her grandson who had interrupted her slumber.

"Marco? What time is it?"

"Seven-thirty."

"Seven-thirty? Why so early, boy?" Marcie's voice was still groggy from sleep.

"It's Reaping Day, Grandma," Marco reminded her with a sigh, wishing he had more patience than what he found himself with lately.

"It is?"

"Yes, Grandma." Marco went to his grandmother's closet and pulled out her best skirt and blouse. "Now, here are your clothes. You should get dressed. Bella's making breakfast."

Marcie's eyes lit up. "Oh! What a lovely girl!"

Marco fought the urge to roll his eyes. Even without Marcie's praise, he was all too aware of what a "lovely girl" his twin sister was. Bella was the prime example of everything a District Three grandmother would be proud of. Like Marco, she was tall, but she also had curves. Her skin was slightly darker than Marco's, and her dark hair fell in bouncy curls. Marco couldn't ignore the attention she got from many of her classmates. In addition to her good looks, she was brilliant, even by District Three standards, scoring well into the range of geniuses on IQ exams. Though she was still in her final year of school, she was well on the path towards earning a scholarship towards Three's treasured university, which she hoped to attend the following year to become a biomedical engineer. As for Marco, he had struggled in school his whole life, and had dropped out to work at age fifteen. Dropping out of school was not commonly approved of in the district, but working with his hands was the only thing Marco found himself to be good at.

By the time Marco returned to the kitchen, Bella had breakfast set out on the table. The two of them sat down to eat, and were soon joined by their grandmother.

"Why are we up so early?" Marcie asked upon sitting down.

Marco let Bella answer. "It's Reaping Day. We have to be at the square by nine."

Marcie frowned. "Oh dear. Is it that time of year already?" Bella nodded. "Oh, Bella, Marco, you aren't eligible to be chosen are you?"

"Yes, we are, Grandma. We're still eighteen. This is our last year though, so I'm sure we'll be safe."

"Oh…. I sure do hope so."

For the rest of breakfast, Marcie did most of the talking, asking Bella and Marco how school was going. The question had become routine for her, even though Marco hadn't been to school in three years. Now matter how many times Marco reminded her, she always had to know what Marco was learning in school. Today, he just kept silent, and listened as Bella explained her classes over and over again. Although their grandmother had successfully raised the twins for most of their lives, her mind had clearly begun a steep decline. Marcie's dementia made it hard for both Marco and Bella to want to spend much time at home, though it was unclear how long they could continue to leave Marcie home alone without her wandering off or hurting herself. They couldn't rely on the neighbors for help forever. The thought of their grandmother losing her mind to a life-robbing disease frightened both twins, though neither wanted to discuss the topic with the other.

After the family finished breakfast, Marco gathered the plates and rinsed them off in the sink while Bella convinced Marcie to put on her shoes. Eventually, the family made their way out the door and down the stairs of their building to begin the short walk to the square. On the way, they ran into the Engelsons, a family that lived down the hall from them. Marco stood back with his grandmother and watched as Bella conversed with Mrs. Engelson, probably to ask her to keep an eye on Marcie while the reaping ran its course.

"Where are we going?" Marcie asked him.

"The Reaping."

"That's today?"

Marco nodded shortly. "Yep."

Bella waved at him, signalling for them to come over, so Marco tugged gently on Marcie's arm. "Come on, Grandma."

The Maudslays and the Engelsons walked in a cluster, with Marcie chatting happily with the Engelsons as if she hadn't seen them in weeks, when in reality it had only been a couple of days. "We should really get together soon," Marcie said, while the Engelsons kindly nodded along.

Eventually, Bella was joined by some friends. They didn't really acknowledge Marco that much, but he honestly couldn't care less. He didn't connect with Bella's friends well. In fact, the only person Marco felt truly understood him was his best friend, Kayleb. Marco's red-haired coworker was two years older than him, and therefore, was safe from the Reapings. Like Marco, Kayleb had dropped out of school, and Marco felt a connection with him that he felt he would never have with any other person. The two young men had agreed to meet up after the Reaping, something Marco was looking forward to.

The group stopped right before reaching the check in line. Mr. Engelson pulled her youngest child, a ten-year-old girl, aside while his oldest two joined the line, and his wife lightly touched Marcie on the arm. "Come on, Marcie. You can stand with us while your grandchildren stand with the other kids their age."

Marcie nodded. "Thank you, how kind! Be good, kids!"

Marco's eyes followed his grandmother until she disappeared into the crowd. Then, he waited to be checked in, only partially listening to Bella and her friends' conversation. Once at the front, the peacekeeper roughly pricked Marco's finger and sent him on his way.

"Good luck, Marco," said Bella as they parted ways.

"You too." He headed towards the crowd of eighteen year old males and found himself a spot near the back of the group. As the escort, Candy Christenith, came to the stage, Marco kept to himself. He had little interest in what the Capitolite was saying. He couldn't take her seriously, not when she had flowing white hair, purple eyes, and wispy black tattoos covering her arms. As the annual video finished rolling, Candy stood up to the podium and took the microphone.

"Good morning, District Three!" Candy said brightly, her voice light and elegant. "I am so excited to be here in District Three! I hope we have another victor in our midst. It has been fourteen years since the last one! Maybe our female will be the lucky tribute who will take the crown this year. Let's find out."

Candy reached into the bowl and pulled out a name. As long as the name was anyone but Bella's, Marco didn't really care who was selected. Chances were, he wouldn't know them.

"Apple Grey!"

No, he definitely didn't know Apple Grey. As it turned out, the girl was his age, with pale skin and short blonde hair. She was tall, but didn't nearly reach Marco's height. Her steps seemed confident as she walked, but her smile was clearly forced. By the time she arrived on stage, tears were in her eyes.

"Congratulations, Apple! Let's find your district partner, shall we." Candy dug her hand around in the male's bowl and after a few long, agonizing seconds, read the name. "Marco Maudsley!"

Marco's eyes widened in shock. She called _him_?! Of all the people she could have called, Candy chose Marco in his last year. This was… well, to be frank, it was complete and utter _bullshit._ Marco may not have been a genius like his sister or even fit in with his peers, but dammit, he was so close! He deserved a chance at life just as much as anyone else. As Marco stormed to the stage, he knew he couldn't keep his face void of emotion. His expression was clearly one of anger and despair.

"My, don't you look strong!" Candy chirped as Marco took his place besides Apple. "District Three, I present to you your tributes, Apple Grey and Marco Maudsley! Tributes, shake hands."

Marco took his district partner's hand, and shook it a bit more firmly than he meant to. She didn't even flinch though, which Marco took as a good sign. As the Peacekeepers ushered the pair into the Justice Building, Marco didn't look back. He didn't wish to see District Three again unless he was coming back home to it.

As he expected, the first person to visit Marco was Bella. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and she seemed like she was about to dissolve into tears at any second. She didn't say anything, but rather encased Marco in a strong hug. Marco hugged her back, slightly awkwardly. It wasn't often that he hugged his family, but as he was going to be sent off to a fight to the death, he figured Bella deserved at least that from him.

"I really thought we were going to make it," she said.

Marco nodded. "Yeah. Me too." He paused, realizing only half of his family was here. "Where's Grandma?"

"I left her with the Engelsons. I would have brought her with, but Marco, she already has forgotten that you were reaped. I didn't want her to be hurt like that again."

"So what are you going to tell her when I disappear and never come back."

"I… I don't know," Bella said softly. "That's why you have to make it back Marco. Soon, her memory will be gone completely, and she won't remember who either of us are. Don't leave me alone. You're the only family I'll have left."

"Hm." Marco didn't want to make promises. He was strong, yes, but that didn't mean he was capable of winning the Hunger Games. He had a chance, he supposed, but not a very great one.

"Just try?"

"Fine." He could at least promise that.

"I love you, Marco."

He swallowed hard. "Yeah. I love you too."

Then she was gone. Almost immediately afterwards, Kayleb burst into the room. Although he was ungracefully tall and lanky, the sight of him helped calm Marco's nerves. Marco always felt more at ease with Kayleb in the room with him. Lately, Marco began to wonder if the way he opened up around Kayleb was because they were best friends, or if it were due to something more. He didn't like to ponder the thought for too long.

"Look, man, I know you don't want sympathy, but I came as soon as I could. I just needed to know I believe in you whole-heartedly.

"Thank you. That… that actually means a lot," Marco admitted.

"Oh, hey, do you have a token?" Marco shook his head, and Kayleb began digging around in his pockets. "Hm… well... "

"I don't need one."

"Sure you do. I'll find one." He withdrew a handful of factory screws and placed one in Marco's hand. "You can do anything, Marco. Believe in yourself."

"Thanks, Kayleb."

Kayleb patted his back. "I'll see you again. Who else would I have to hang out with in a district full of brainiacs?"

Marco managed a weak smile. "Good point."

Kayleb headed towards the door just as the Peacekeeper outside opened it to force him out. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he said, before slipping out the door.

Marco sighed. His best friend was gone, and it would take a miracle for them to see each other again.

* * *

 **Katarina Hubert, District 10 Female, 16**

 _Youngpatriot_

Katarina wasn't thinking about herself that morning.

She was a little worried for herself, who wouldn't be? However, she was mostly worried for the twins.

It had taken time for Katarina to warm up to her younger sisters, especially after the health problems her mother had after they were born. She was young at that time, only two years old, and yet she was neglected because of the two babies and her mother sick and bedridden. It was a bustling household back then, with two babies, a two-year-old, a five-year-old, an eight-year-old, and a twelve-year-old.

It was a weird time for Roland Hubert and his wife Fiona. Roland had to console his oldest, who was afraid for the reapings, with two babies on his hips, while his wife, who worked as a nurse in one of the District's clinics, was bed-ridden. Katarina had no idea how he did it, now that she was older and looked back on the situation. Probably with a lot of help from Ganghes. Katarina couldn't even imagine what it must have been like for her father or her oldest brother. How did they get the strength to fight through each day? How did they have the energy to be caretakers and keep up with so many little ones? Katarina wasn't as tender as they were, she couldn't imagine it.

Ganghes was safe from the reapings now, though, as were Katarina's other older siblings, Fredrica and Martel.

This would be Martel's first reaping without having to worry about himself in years. He was nineteen, so last year was his last. Katarina, at sixteen, was jealous. She knew that she wouldn't be comforted until two years after she was safe, for both twins to be free. Four years seemed more like a million decades away to Katarina.

She sat up, her feet, rough and calloused like her hands from weeks, day-in and day-out, of long, hard work, true work. Katarina was never afraid to jump right in and do what needed done and frankly failed to understand why there were people that weren't willing to do the same. She got up out of bed and opened her window, feeling the cool air of dawn rush in her window. Then, she went to get dressed.

Katarina took the outfit she always wore - comfortable and functional above all else - and put on the dress pants and top. They were clothes she could still move in, as opposed to stifling dresses and other outfits like that that may have been more feminine. Katarina barely gave a damn about that, of course. She was comfortable with who she was. She didn't need to feel pretty or glamorous. She was fine with the knowledge that she was a worker, productive to society, providing service, learning in hopes of achieving better things someday like her mother.

Katarina was never really the best learner in school, needing to apply what she was learning to actually retain information. She hadn't actually learned how to read until she was eleven. She was just so bored sitting still in those dusty classrooms. From the time they were young it was just an endless stream of Capitol propaganda anyways. Why did it matter if Katarina learned that stuff? She never saw the point to it. She didn't actually settle down and try to learn until her best friend Henrietta stopped carrying her through exams and forced her to. At the time, Katarina was mad, but being older and wiser now she was glad that Henrietta did that for her. It opened up her world.

That was the nice thing about her friendship with Henrietta. They weren't there to facilitate the other's bad behavior. Even back then, they were forcing each other to be the best version of themselves. Katarina really did appreciate that. She was always striving to be better, and she was willing to push Henrietta to do the same.

After she'd put her clothes on, Katarina took her comb and brushed her curly brown hair as best as she could. For today, she decided to wear it down, but took her hair tie on her wrist just in case she needed it. She was hoping that her father would give her another carcass after the reaping that day, but only after she changed pants. Blood stains were next to impossible to wash out, after all, and if she was going to dissect an entire pig before the meat was taken from it, she was going to need to wear her murder spree pants, as she called them. They were stained all over with blood and innards, and if anyone saw them, they would either think her period was like a fucking _geyser_ or, more likely, that she had just gone on a murder spree.

Ah, the things she did for science's sake.

That being said, Katarina had always wanted to follow in her mother's footsteps and work at a clinic, and more: she wanted to be a first-responder, like they had in the Capitol- people that rode around and facilitated care before others could get there. She had always been interested in anatomy and biology, and it was the only subject at school in which Katarina always aimed for perfect scores.

When Fiona Hubert had time, she sat with her middle daughter and passed knowledge onto her. Katarina was always attentive during these times, much more than she is in school. Sometimes these sessions are interrupted by one or both of the twins, Viola and Violet, which still annoys Katarina to this day but used to send her into fits of rage, which Fiona would have to negotiate. Ever since Viola had almost died of scarlet fever, Katarina has been more patient with them because she realized how empty life would be without them. Realistically, losing one twin is the same as losing both, considering they do everything together.

Katarina thought of these things as she went to the table for breakfast, where the twins were swinging their feet happily and eating croissants. The delightful smell of bacon filled the room as Katarina realized that her father had kept some meat: some profit: to have as a reaping morning treat. Katarina hungrily sits down at the table, her spirits being lifted, at least a little bit.

"Good morning," Roland said quietly, putting some of the meat on his daughter's plate.

"Morning, thanks," Katarina said, eating the greasy pieces of bacon happily. It tasted so good to her.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Fiona asked, running her fingers through her daughter's hair.

Katarina sighed, trying not to think of the dangers of the reapings. "Same as any other reaping day," she said finally.

"I have a sow out back for you after the reaping is over," Roland said, knowing that it would cheer his daughter up. Katarina did smile.

"We'll be alright," Violet said quietly, causing Viola to nod quickly in agreement with her sister. "I know we will."

"I hope so," Katarina said quietly, staring at her plate before she slowly stood up. "I think I'm going to go see Henrietta and Delores before the reaping starts, if that's alright."

"That's perfectly fine, dear," Roland said, giving his daughter a tight hug. The twins hugged her as well, then her mother, who also gave her a kiss on the cheek. Katarina turned and walked out the door.

She checked the time on the large clock tower that stood behind the Justice Building and quickly went to her meeting spot with her best friends. When she arrived, Henrietta was already there, waiting for her.

"Good morning!" she said, giving her a hug. Henrietta's unwavering optimism wasn't shaken, even on this terrible day.

"Hey," Katarina said.

"So, how about after the reaping we have a party at my place? Reaping days offer excuses to celebrate, after all! That's one thing they're good for!" she smiled at Katarina, her sweet eyes becoming dark with sadness for just a second before lighting up again.

"How're your older siblings then?" she asked, just as Delores was approaching them.

"Oh, uh, they're alright. Haven't talked to them very much."

"Not even Martel?" she asked, her ears flushing pink.

Katarina didn't notice, though, and just shrugged. "He's busy."

"Hey guys," Delores said, putting up a hand. The others waved back, and Henrietta gave her a hug as they started walking to the Square.

"I can't believe it's time already," Delores said, sounding miserable.

"I can't either," Katarina said. "I try to look ahead, to the fun things I'm going to do after this, but there comes a point when you wonder if you'll be here to do them."

"Of course we will!" Henrietta said surely. "We didn't take tesserae."

"Didn't stop them before," Katarina snapped, causing Henrietta to sigh as all three girls got blood taken from their fingers. After the wound stopped bleeding, Henrietta took both of her friends' hands and squeezed them supportively. They stood in the sixteen-year-old section together as the reapings began.

Penelope Barnes stepped up onto the stage, looking just as cheery as ever. Her electric-yellow hair was pulled into a braided crown, and her bright orange, cat-like eyes viewed the crowd pleasantly.

"Welcome, welcome, to the reaping for the ninety-sixth annual Hunger Games!" Nobody said a word. Katarina thought of the twins and another lump formed in her throat. She squeezed Henrietta's hand hard, and her friend squeezed back as the video played.

"First, the girls!" she said happily, going over to the first bowl. She reached in, swirled her hand around, and pulled out a name. Walking back to the microphone, she cleared her throat and read, "Katarina Hubert!"

Katarina could feel herself pale. The first emotion that came across her wasn't sadness or fear, but anger. Red hot anger that caused her to let go of Henrietta's hand, cross her arms, and start to the stage, scowling. The fear crept in when her feet touched the stairs, and through her anger her body began to shake as tears threatened to come out of her eyes.

"Yes, there is a bit of a draft here, isn't there?" Penelope said, referring to her body quivering and shaking. Katarina bit her lip as Penelope selected the next name.

"Everett Dyer!" A boy with messy, blond, wavy hair was found by the cameras - and Peacekeepers - in the crowd, clutching the shoulders of a boy with buzzed hair that was red, and blue eyes. The boy looked dizzy almost with grief.

"Come on up Everett!" the boy clumsily stumbled to the stage, his eyes cloudy with confusion and sadness as he reached out to shake Katarina's hand. The two of them were escorted back to the Justice Building.

Katarina's parents and the twins came in first. The twins ran into her lap, both of them sobbing loudly. Katarina just held them close, not knowing what to say to them. There was nothing she could say. She didn't know what to do. She just held them close as they cried. Tears bubbled out of her eyes and she let out a small sob.

"You know what to do," Roland said quietly, fighting tears himself. He was heartbroken that his daughter was reaped, but he was fully confident in her ability to win.

"You can, honey," Fiona said, her voice soft. The two of them joined the huddle of their three youngest daughters, all of them crying to different extents. When the Peacekeepers came to tell them time was up, the twins shrieked in perfect unison.

"No! Katarina!"

"I love you!" Katarina sobbed after them, and the phrase was returned by each as they walked out the door.

Next came the three oldest siblings. Martel was crying, and Fredrica was struggling not to. When Katarina hugged the two of them, Martel sobbed louder and Fredrica hid her face in Katarina's shoulder. Ganghes, the oldest of them all, took Katarina into his strong arms when the others let go. Nobody said a word, but none of them had to. Words couldn't express the heartbreak they felt at having to separate like this. They all exchanged words of love as the older siblings left, holding hands and each one crying.

Last came Henrietta and Delores. Henrietta, as usual, was still smiling, though her eyes were misty. She whispered some reassuring words to Katarina when the girls hugged.

Delores hugged her next. Both of them were sobbing, and neither wanted to let go.

"She's going to win," Henrietta said, trying to convince them all.

"I'm going to do my best," Katarina said. When she let go of Delores, the other girl took the watch off her wrist and put it in Katarina's hands.

"For you," she said, voice shaking as she closed her friend's hand around the token.

"Thanks," Katarina whispered sadly. Delores's gaze held onto Katarina's for just a second longer than would be shared between friends before Henrietta joined the hug, a small sob escaping her.

"Love you guys," Katarina said.

"Love you too," they both said quietly. The other two girls were escorted away.

Katarina and Everett walked slowly out to the train, expecting fate. Who knew how this would end?

* * *

 _ **Authors' note:** Here's another chapter! We are halfway done with the Reapings! Yay! _**Reviews are always appreciated. Let us know how we're doing, what you liked, any constructive criticism.  
**

 **Chapter Question: Same thing. Who did you like more and why?**

 **Also, this is Celtic. I am kind of behind on the drawings of the tributes becasue I forgot I was doing them, lol. But the website for reference is champion - of - destruction - 96. blogspot . com (minus spaces) if you'd like to check it out. I promise I'll get those drawings out soon when college isn't killing me. Maybe during fall break.**


	7. Districts 4 and 9 Reapings

**Districts Four and Nine Reapings**

* * *

 **Soren Cantarell, District 4 male, 18**

 _Sinfonian Legend_

Reaping Day couldn't have had nicer weather anywhere else than it did in District Four. The sun was out, bright against a cloudless sky, and the waves were as calm as the ocean would allow. Children froliced on the beach, building sand castles and squealing in glee as they splashed each other in the waves.

Soren hated it.

Well, not all of it, of course. He was actually quite fond of kids, and despite the fact that his own parents were shitty examples, he could even see himself becoming a father someday. He simply hated how mainstream it all felt. The stereotypical surfer dudes, the sand, the warm weather, the ocean, all of it. People from other districts seemed to assume that every day in Four was sunny and that life was always good. It wasn't. Although Four may have been one of the wealthiest districts, it wasn't perfect. It was still in Panem, after all.

It wasn't that Soren was a pessimist. He was simply a realist that liked to be as salty as the ocean, and yes, he was proud of that cheesy comparison. At the same time, Soren had decided to just deal with the cards he had been handed and just float along wherever life took him. That was easier than being a bitter grouch all the time, and anyway, nothing could stop Soren from throwing in some sass now and again. Life was better with a side of sass.

Soren's thoughts were interrupted when beach ball hit him in the back. He turned around to find a giggling little boy, who couldn't have been more than three stumbling after it.

"Whoops," said Soren. He reached down to pick up the ball and bent down to the little boy's level. "Hi, there. Is this yours?"

The boy nodded proudly as he took the ball from Soren, a huge grin on his face. "Uh huh!"

"Dune!" called a boy around Soren's age as he ran up to them. "Be more careful where you throw your ball, okay? You could have hurt him."

"I sorry," mumbled little Dune, hanging his head.

Soren ruffled his hair, making the little boy smile again. "It's okay, buddy." He then turned to Dune's guardian. "Don't worry about it. Let's be thankful it wasn't a bowling ball. That would have knocked the wind out of me for sure."

The other boy gave a small, nervous laugh. "I don't think Dune is strong enough to lift a bowling ball, but good point."

Dune gave his ball a good kick, and started giggling again as he chased after it. The two older boys couldn't help but smile watching him. "Little brother?"

The other boy blushed slightly, "No, uh, son actually."

Soren nodded. "Sorry to assume."

"It's alright. A lot of people do," the boy said with a sigh. "Hey, it was nice talking to you, but I should get the little guy home and get him ready for the Reapings. Come on, Dune!"

"Commin' Papa!"

Soren watched father and son depart before continuing on his way. Already dressed in the best clothes he owned, Soren had no need to prepare for the reapings. His dark, mostly reddish brown hair was combed back, and his dark tan skin was relatively clean besides the various scars and scratches that were scattered around his body, although he couldn't exactly get rid them with the limited resources he had.

Even if he wasn't prepared, Soren didn't actually have a true home he could go to anymore. The outskirts of the district had been Soren's home since he was fourteen, ever since his parents decided his low grades in school meant he was a complete failure, therefore making him unworthy of living in their home. He had been on his own since then, and had learned how to survive by finding his own food and trading in town.

Screw his parents. He didn't need them, and besides, this was the year he was going to prove them wrong. He wasn't a worthless deadbeat. Worthless deadbeats didn't volunteer, and they certainly didn't win the Games. Soren was about to do just that, and he couldn't help but grin at the thought of the look that would be on his parents' faces once he had more money than they could ever earn in their lives.

Soren made his way to the Justice Building early, not only because of his eagerness to volunteer, but also because he had agreed to meet his best friend, Dandy Gray, there to chat before the reapings. He arrived first, but it wasn't long before he saw Dandy jogging towards him, her untamable sandy curls bouncing in the ponytail behind her.

"Hey!"

Soren grinned. "About time you showed up."

"Hey, I'm right on time," replied Dandy, "and anyway, you know how long it takes to get this mess on top of my head to not look like a rat's nest."

"True," Soren said, laughing.

"So you're really doing this? You'd rather face the Games then face your parents?"

Soren sighed. "Yes. You know that, Dandy. They kicked me out of my own home. What kind of parents do that?"

"Wouldn't it be easier to just talk it out with them?"

Talk it out. That was Dandy's solution for everything, it seemed. "No way. That's not going to work for me."

Dandy raised an eyebrow. "Is it really not going to work, or are you just too stubborn to do it?"

"I'm not changing my mind?"

"I know," Dandy sighed. "I just thought I'd try anyway."

Soren put a hand on her shoulder. "Look, I know you don't like this, but I'll be fine. I wouldn't do this if I didn't think I could win."

"I hope you're right, Soren," she said, her gray eyes serious.

"Anyway, enough of that. What's new?"

Soren listened as Dandy gave him the juiciest news of the district, a bit of a routine for them. As more people flooded the Square, they both joined the line to check in. After having his finger pricked, Soren waved to Dandy and headed to his section, while she joined the crowd of eighteen-year-old girls. He took his place and took a few seconds to realize the boy next to him had been the same one from earlier, the father of little Dune.

"Hello, again."

The boy turned, startled. "Oh, hey. I didn't think I'd see you again."

"What are the odds?"

The other boy smiled, but didn't reply as the mayor had just taken his place at the podium. The mayor gave the same speech as he had been giving every year since taking office, rambling on about the great about of pride he had for District Four, and his faith that they would produce strong, competitive tributes, just like every other year. Soren barely listened. He wasn't volunteering to bring pride to the district. Rather, he was doing this for himself and of course, to spit in his parents' faces without physically doing so. That would be impolite, and frankly, disgusting.

Finally, after the playing of the annual video, the mayor called the escort to the stage and stepped aside. Cobra Richie, an agender individual with tan skin, black spiky hair tipped red, and eyes altered to look like they belonged to a cat rather than a human, came to the podium, holding their head high in a haughty display of arrogance. Cobra had been escorting in Four for a little over a decade after transferring from District Seven, but Soren still wasn't quite sure what to make of them.

"Welcome District Four, to the reaping of the Ninety-sixth Annual Hunger Games!" They paused to allow the crowd to cheer a little. "Now, before we begin, I'd like to remind you that my pronouns are they and them, so don't use anything else when referring to me. Let's start with the girls. Cove Blanchard!"

Whoever Cove was, she didn't bother to leave her section, or maybe she just didn't have the chance, because the shout of "I volunteer!" came quickly afterward, strong and eager. A girl emerged from the cluster of eighteen-year olds, her brown hair tied back in a short braid. She didn't run, but her pace was still brisk, and she was grinning from ear to ear. She climbed the stairs of the stage in just a few steps and took the microphone from Cobra so quickly after they asked for her name that Soren wondered if she was going to scream her name and burst his eardrums.

"I'm Tay Fairingdale, and I'm proud to be your next Victor!" Tay's voice was loud and excited, but thankfully, it didn't reach the volume of unbearable.

"It's an honor to have you Tay!" said Cobra. "Next up, we'll meet your district partner. Douglas Sanford!"

The boy next to Soren tensed, but there was no time to ask if it was his name that had been called, or a loved one's. This was Soren's moment, and he had to act fast.

"I volunteer!"

With no competition in sight, Soren took his time walking to the stage, taking the opportunity to smile at the cameras. "Welcome!" Cobra greeted as he took his place next to Tay. "What's your name?"

"Soren Cantarell," he said, giving the crowd a smile.

"Wonderful, Soren! District Four, I give you your tributes, Soren Cantarell and Tay Fairingdale! Tributes, shake hands!"

Tay took his hand in hers and gave it a firm shake, still grinning. Soren gave her a nod before following the peacekeepers into the Justice Building. He didn't have to wait long before Dandy showed up.

"So clearly I still didn't change your mind, huh?"

Soren shook his head. "Nope. Sorry Dandy, but I having to do this."

Dandy sighed. "I know. I know that when you put your mind to something, you're not likely to change directions on it. But please, Soren, know that your parents' opinions mean nothing. You're not a deadbeat. Don't win to impress them, win to make yourself proud."

"Fine," Soren agreed, "but I'm willing to bet they'll be begging for me to take me back by the time I get back. At the very least, they'll be sorry they kicked me out in the first place."

His best friend wrapped her arms around him. "Just be careful, Soren. Come back to me."

Soren nodded. "I will. I promise."

After Dandy left, Sammy Wheeler entered. At seventeen, Wheeler hoped to volunteer the following year. As workout partners, the pair had developed a strong bond, and thanks to the one year age difference, felt no hostility towards each other.

"Good job, man!" Wheeler said, clapping Soren on the back. "I know always knew you could do it."

"Come on, Wheeler. Now you're just getting cheesy."

Wheeler shrugged, smiling good-naturedly. "Too bad, because I mean it. You deserve this."

Soren smiled back. "Thanks. I do appreciate it."

The two carried on, as though today wasn't the biggest day of Soren's life. Soren enjoyed this time, because Wheeler allowed him to feel like this was just an ordinary day that he could simply float through, without making a big deal over him volunteering. He and Wheeler were alike in that way, which is probably how they connected so fast.

After Wheeler was asked to leave by the peacekeepers, the room grew silent. Tay must have had more visitors than him, but Soren was fine with that. He didn't expect his parents to come, and besides them, he had no other family. Dandy and Wheeler were his closest friends, so he didn't expect anyone else.

Soren leaned back on the plush couch and let out a content sigh. His time to shine had come. He was going to prove his parents were wrong about him, and he could hardly wait to get started.

* * *

 **Amaranth "Mar" Jane Smith, District 9 Female, 15**

 _CrissKenobie-The-Numenorean_

* * *

It didn't even take ten minutes for Mar to wonder if they would be dead by the end of the week. They hadn't exactly rested well, nor had they tried to sleep in. They knew that it was just going one of those days, and that'd be that. They could do nothing to magically cease being dysphoric, nor could they do anything to stop the reaping from happening. It was inevitable. It was one of those days.

Mar knew that those days wouldn't last forever, though sometimes it felt like they did. Going back and forth from neutral to masculine, neutral to masculine, was overwhelmingly depressing. But, Mar couldn't control how often they gravitated towards certain pronouns; it was really just a part of who Mar was and, though sometimes they wish they could shapeshift, they took pride in who they were. There weren't many people who would say the same.

Mar got out of bed, wishing that they could just slip into one of Farro's sweatshirts to hide their curves even a little bit, but that surely wouldn't do on reaping day. Instead, they wore a collared shirt and a pair of dress pants. Then, they combed their straight brown hair. As they were putting the brush down on the table, Mar noticed the dark black tattoo on their finger and smiled.

It wasn't debated that Mar was rebellious. Not in the way that the Capitol kept preaching against, but in the way that they just plain hated rules. Their parents weren't exactly jumping for joy when their child came home with a tattoo of all things, but then again, they weren't really thrilled about the nose ring either. They'd get over it, because they knew that deep down, Mar loved them and would ultimately never go too far. As long as their child was alive, healthy, and safe, their parents would get over whatever Mar did in time.

Mar slid their favorite red beanie on the back of their head, tucking some of their hair into it as best as they could. The beanie was worn out, but it had been made by Mar's mother, and therefore they would never stop wearing it.

Mar took one last look at themself in the mirror, glancing at their finger again before going downstairs to meet their parents for breakfast.

Mar's mother Rye was talking to their Papa about chores around the house, but was interrupted by Papa saying,"Good morning Mar!" He mocked a relieved expression at the temporary interruption to Rye's chore list, causing both Mar and their mother to laugh.

"Morning," Mar said, before Rye continued her list.

"Also, before we leave for that reaping, your shoes need picked up off the floor and put back in the closet where they belong. Are you listening, Emmer? " she said, only freezing in her list of chores to greet Mar. "Oh, yes, good morning, dear."

"Hey Mom." Mar said, sitting at the table.

"I hear you loud and clear, Babe," Emmer said.

"Why do you still call her Babe?" Mar asked, more playfully than anything.

Emmer grinned as he set breakfast out in front of Mar. "Just because we're not quite spring chickens doesn't mean I can't keep using pet-names. You should know."

Mar blushed now, momentarily silenced as they ate their breakfast.. Suddenly, they realized something was missing. "Where's Dad?" They had a lingering suspicion as to the answer to that question.

"Out working," Emmer sighed. "And yet, I'm the one that's going gray."

"Don't joke about this Honey," sighed Rye, but she smiled at how Mar laughed. There was a knock on the door just then, and she went to answer it.

"Hello there!" Mar perked up at hearing Farro's voice and quickly finished their breakfast.

"Oh yes, how good to see you, Farro," Rye said, smiling. Mar's eyes went to the matching tattoo on Farro's finger, and they grinned. It really was a brilliant idea.

"I bet you're here to learn how to treat a raging case of Montezuma's revenge, huh Farro?" Emmer joked.

"Papa," Mar said, crossing their arms.

"Not until Tuesday," Rye mused, an amused look in her eyes.

"As much as I love learning from you, Mrs. Smith, I'm here for Mar today. But I'll be here bright and early tomorrow to learn from you more."

"Of course," the woman said with a smile. "You two run off now." She kissed the top of Mar's head despite their protests. Mar even gave Emmer a hug goodbye.

"Tell Dad I said to stop breaking his back, 'kay?" Mar asked. They were concerned for their father.

"I'll pass on the message," Emmer said, kissing his child goodbye as they took Farro's hand and the couple walked out the door together.

"We're gonna be okay. You know that, don't you?"

"Mhm," Mar said nervously. Together, Farro and Mar walked up the street towards the mayor's house, swinging their hands slightly as they went.

"I bet you fifty bucks that Teff's already here."

Farro grinned at Mar. "Oh, you're so on! I bet she's still getting dressed and primping and such. You know how she is."

"I bet she came as soon as she was ready. I bet she got ready pretty fast."

"We'll see." Farro grinned as they knocked on the door.

Sure enough, the person to answer it wasn't the mayor's son. Instead it was the beaming fifteen-year-old, her green eyes alight with happiness at seeing them. When she waved, Mar saw the tattoo on her finger and smiled.

"Hey!" Teff said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss each of their cheeks.

"Hey," they both responded, grinning. Teff skipped inside, and the others followed, Mar giving Farro a nudge and a wink when nobody was looking.

"Did you see my new dress?" she asked.

"It's cute," Farro said, grinning.

"It suits you really well," Mar said, smiling affectionately as Teff twirled around.

"How're you holdin' up?" Farro asked, sitting next to Mill.

"I'm fine. Mayor's son. Not much of a chance." A chance still existed though.

"Eh. I'd volunteer for you."

"No you wouldn't," the scrawnier boy protested, snuggling into Farro's side when the chestnut-haired boy put an arm around him.

"I thought we weren't going to talk about it?" Teff asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"I agree," Mar said, swallowing a nervous lump in their throat as they sunk next to Mill. The blond boy gave them a shy smile and sighed contently when they laid their head on his lap.

"Aw, you guys look so comfy!" Teff said, putting her hands on her hips.

"There's always room for one more," Farro said, and Teff found her way into the cuddle pile. The foursome stayed like that for a while before Mill's mother came downstairs.

"Shouldn't you all be on your way?" she asked, not wanting to break their moods but not wanting them to be late.

Wordlessly, the four teens stood up and linked hands, filing out the door together. Doors weren't a challenge for them anymore, they'd had so much experience getting all four of them through a doorway without letting go of each other. Silently, they walked to the Town Square, where many others were already in line.

As they were in line, Mar could feel eyes on them. People making confused or just plain disgusted faces at each other. Whispering. Mar wasn't sure if they were whispering about them or not. It felt like everyone was judging them in that moment. But Mar didn't care.

Farro bristled a little bit, but the others dragged him up to the registration tables before he could challenge anyone to a fight. Each of them got their fingers pricked, the Capitolites at registration intrigued at the matching black tattoos around each of their fingers. Mar realized that this was the point at which they had to separate. They hugged their boyfriends goodbye as they split based on sex. Mill gave them a gentle temple kiss, and Farro kissed their forehead. Together, still holding hands, Mar and Teff walked to the fifteen section together.

District Nine had a fresh new escort that year named Cerena Mai. The nineteen-year-old had inherited the position after her father, Romano Mai, retired the year previous. As far as escorts go, Cerena wasn't too bad to look at. Her skin was unpigmented, the only alterations being two tattoos, which were shown off by the garment she wore. She had silky black hair, only one streak of which was dyed, today a golden color. Her hair was kept simple today, in two buns close to her neck with golden butterfly decorations. She was wearing a red and black silk garment that was short sleeved and short enough that the red phoenix tattoo on her leg was visible, as well as the one on her right arm, which Mar couldn't really make out.

The video played as always, and soon it was time for the tributes to be selected. Just like her appearance, she's quiet and polite for a Capitolite. She picks the male tribute first, walking back to the microphone. Mar started to feel really afraid for the first time all day. Teff squeezed their hand, and they squeezed back as the name was read.

"Milo Redtail!" Mar let out a breath of relief as a boy came out of the sixteen section. He was standing close to Mill. At least both of their boys were safe another year.

The boy that was on his way up looked pathetic. He was pale, short, and thin, with slightly long brown hair pushed to the side out of his eyes. He made it up the steps slowly, tears bubbling up in his eyes. Cerena gave him a light pat on the shoulder before going to the female bowl and choosing a name.

"Amaranth Jane Smith!" A chill crept up their back. Teff squeezed their hand tightly, refusing to let go until Mar gave her a look. Defeated, Teff slowly unlaced their fingers.

Mar wanted to scream, cry, or beat the shit out of a Peacekeeper, but knew that doing that would only put their family and partners in danger. Instead, they put on a brave face, though they felt slightly dizzy as they went up the stairs and saw all the people watching them.

"Everyone, your District Nine tributes. Mister Milo Redtail, and Miss Amaranth Smith. Mar tensed at the use of the label of "miss", squeezing Milo's hand firmly and holding back a scowl as they practically ran back into the Justice Building.

All three of Mar's parents were there to visit them. When Mar saw them, they jumped up and ran to them, longing to feel the embrace of their parents, their protectors, their loved ones. Mar didn't want to leave them. Sure, they'd been pretty rebellious, but that didn't mean anything anymore. Nothing meant anything anymore. They let out their tears without any regrets.

"Mar, honey…" Emmer held them close. He couldn't even think of a way to make them smile.

"We love you so much," Rye sobbed a bit as she threw her arms around her child, holding them close and trying to hold back the tears.

"I love you too," Mar choked out. It's all they could make themself say. They hugged their father next.

Barley was known for his ability to be a grump, and Mar was worried he wouldn't be able to handle this. Mar was already worried that he was putting himself in danger, working so much. He was so rarely around. Mar stayed in his arms just a touch longer than they did their other parents. Mar and their parents exchanged tearful goodbyes and last "I love you"s before the three of them were forced to leave.

The next three visitors were what Mar really needed to get them back up on their feet. Teff was already in tears, her face buried in Mill's shoulder.

"I'm going to get them! I'm going to end this before it begins, I'm going to make them pay, I'm going to make them sorry, this isn't happening you're going to be fine, I'm going to make them take me instead, I'll-"

"Farro!" Mar looked up at him and felt absolutely pathetic. "Please," their voice quivered.

Farro was still steaming mad. Mar knew they couldn't stop him now. Mill was the first to hug them. His steady breathing was calming, and Mar focused on that feeling, the warmth and the steady breaths, until their tears had mostly stopped. Then, they hugged Teff, and kissed her temple, and finally they approached Farro.

"Please. Don't do anything you'll regret." Mar was begging him. "You have to be there to heal the others if... " they swallowed hard.

"Don't say that!" Farro practically shouted. "Please."

"You have to be there." Mar's voice had taken on an edge as they stared up at him with harsh gray eyes. "Understand?"

Farro took them into a tight hug. "I promise I'll do everything to heal them," he said quietly. His voice was shaking. Soon, the other two joined the hug, and the four of them stayed huddled there for a long time.

"I love you," Mar said quietly. "I really really do."

"Love you too," they all repeated quietly.

"Time's up!" the Peacekeepers said. Mill put an arm around Teff and helped her out. Farro looked like he was about to start screaming, but Mill nudged his arm and took his hand.

They walked out together, and the tears came back to Mar's eyes when they realized they might never see them again.

* * *

 _ **Authors' note:** Reaping number four is complete!_ **Over halfway there! In fact, only two more reaping chapters left! _Yay!_**

 **Alright, this is Celtic here! Do you like submitting to SYOTs? Because if you do, I've got a favor to ask from you! Edit: The poll I had on my profile has been replaced with a poll for the Victor of my other story. But, here are the choices, so if you haven't voted, you can let me know in your review which you'd submit to, if any: a second chance SYOT (with a limit on tributes from the same Games), another normal SYOT from 98-103 or so, or a Quarter Quell, probably 125, where the age gap is narrowed and the tributes are given hormones that will make them be highly susceptible to falling in love with other tributes. Thanks for the input! :)**

 **Alright, I dunno if I mentioned this but I don't think so. But, every Sunday night starting at 7 Eastern Time (give or take) I've started streaming! And this Sunday I'll probably start drawing these two characters. From 9-10 I take requests, so feel free to pop on and say hello! Link's on my profile.**

 _ **So, who'd you like better of these two and why?**_

 _ **Reviews are always appreciated, let us know what you think!**_


	8. Districts 5 and 8 Reapings

**Districts Five and Eight Reapings**

* * *

 **Avery Hayley, District 5 Male, 16**

 _Voidflight_

Avery didn't want to get out of bed on the morning of the Reaping. It wasn't that he didn't want to face the day or that he was scared of being reaped, but his bed was just so comfortable. School and work were both cancelled for the day, so he and his older sister, Maureen, didn't have anywhere to be until the Reaping at eleven. Might as well enjoy the comfort of his bed for a little while longer.

The smell of eggs cooking down the hall finally lured Avery from the under the covers. He walked over to his dresser and ran a comb through his thick, wavy brown hair before sliding on his glasses and emerging from his room. As expected, he found Maureen standing at the kitchen stove. She looked a lot like him, besides the fact that she was a woman, and he a sixteen-year-old boy. They had the light brown skin and dark green eyes, and their hair was the same color and texture. In fact, some people thought Maureen was Avery's young mother. She was thirteen years older than him, so Avery could see where they would get that idea. Besides, Maureen was actually more like a mother than a sister to him, as she had raised him since he was five years old.

"Good morning, Maureen!" Avery said cheerfully as he sat at the table.

She turned her head to smile at him. "Good morning, Avery. Did you sleep well?"

He nodded. "I had a weird dream though. There was this stray cat that kept following me around. I tried to get him to leave, but he just liked me, I guess. You asked me where I found it and I said, "I have no idea, but I guess we're keeping him." But then this little girl banged on the door and started screaming that I stole her cat, so I gave it back."

Maureen laughed, then set a plate of scrambled eggs in from of him. "That sounds eventful."

Avery nodded. It wasn't the most fascinating or twisted dream he ever had, but he found he could chat about anything, even about something as silly as a dream. "Thanks, by the way."

"Any time. Are you going to meet Lauree before the reaping?"

"I was planning on it. Is that okay?"

She smiled. "Of course. Just don't be late, but you know that."

"Lauree's mom will probably be rushing us out the door well beforehand anyway," Avery replied.

"I don't doubt it."

"So, are you seeing Kayden today?" Avery teased, referring to Maureen's coworker that she was interested in. Maureen hadn't dated much while Avery was growing up, choosing instead to focus on him. Now that Avery was old enough to fend for himself though, he tried to encourage her to make time for herself as well. Maureen had done so much for him, taking him in after their parents died instead of dumping him off at an orphanage like so many other eighteen-year-olds would have, that Avery really wanted her to be happy. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was definitely Maureen.

"Hopefully," said Maureen, blushing slightly. "What about it?"

Avery shrugged. "No reason," he said, flashing a charismatic, innocent smile.

"Uh huh. Sure."

Throughout breakfast, conversation never dropped off, which was how Avery liked it. He liked to talk, and fortunately, so did Maureen. After all, what was the point of having vocal cords if he never used them? When he was finished eating, he headed to his room to prepare for the reaping. He reached to the back of his closet to pull out his best pants and shirt. They had been freshed ironed and hung waiting for him to change into. When he was ready, he said a brief goodbye to Maureen before heading out the door.

The weather was pleasant, though a bit hot. District Five was in Southern Panem, and therefore had hot summers. Fortunately, Reaping Day was before the hottest peak of the year, so the heat likely wouldn't end up being too unbearable. Even though the reaping was not quite two hours away, there was already several people milling about. Some were visiting loved ones before the reaping, while others were rushing to the market for some last minute supplies. Due to Maureen's talent in the field of energetics, she earned an high enough salary for the siblings to live in the middle class section of District Five. Residents in their neighborhood could afford small houses, rather than the tiny apartments the poor district citizens were forced to crowd into near the city's center. The further someone travelled from the main power plant, the richer the communities became. While Avery wasn't rich, he was thankful for what he had. He never had to take out tesserae, and he had Maureen to thank for that. His best friend, Lauree, also lived in a middle class home, a few blocks towards the city.

Still, the walk to Lauree's house was long enough for Avery to get lost in thought. He didn't want to think about the Reaping, the Games, or anything of that nature, because that was too depressing, and Avery needed an escape. So, as he often did, he let his mind wander.

Lauree opened the door before he could even knock. "There you are!"

"I'm not even late," Avery protested.

Lauree grinned. "I know. I was just bored waiting for you to get here." She stepped aside to let him in, and her mother poked her head through the doorway as Avery came inside.

"Hi Avery. Are you nervous for today?"

"A little," he admitted. "But Lauree and I don't have many slips in. There's no use being overly worried for something we have only a slight chance of being selected for. I don't want to spend my morning in dread, you know?"

Lauree's mother sighed. "I hope so. But it has happened before."

"Don't worry, Mom. We'll be fine," said Lauree.

Her mother nodded slightly. "Just two more years."

Avery and Lauree hung out in the living room, chatting away as carefree as they could be. The dangers of being reaped still hovered around like a shadow, but there was no way to worry about it. After all, worrying meant you suffered twice, and with the low chance Avery had of being reaped, why should he suffer at all? Eventually, Lauree's mother told them it was time to leave, and the pair started the short journey to the square together. They were joined by more friends in the line to check in, before having their fingers pricked and separating to their proper sections.

The escort was a short, chubby woman in her mid-to-late sixties named Belphoebe Faustina. She wore a pink, cotton-candy like wig and was covered in pink make-up and dozens of pieces of jewelry. As usually, she was smiling brightly as she stood up to the podium after the video finished rolling.

"Hello, District Five! It's great to see you again! I'm pleased to tell you that not only is today a wonderful day due to Reaping Day, but I also have some fabulous news to tell you! Since I was last here, my daughter Louisa has told my beautiful, lovely, _amazing_ wife Guinevere and I that she is expecting her first child! Isn't that exciting?!"

The crowd remained silent. In the sixteen years she had worked in the District, Belphoebe had proven how much she loved her wife and their three children, and talked about them constantly. Avery thought it was kind of cute and made the Capitolite seem more human in a way, but most of the rest of the district showed they couldn't care less about Belphoebe's personal life.

Belphoebe walked over to the girl's bowl and drew out a name. "Let's start with our girl! Iris Solaric!"

A fairly tall girl with wavy light brown hair and brown eyes stepped out of the seventeen-year-old section of girls. She clearly was terrified, but seemed to be trying to fight through the fear. Avery felt bad for her. She was only two reapings away from being safe, and now she was going into the Games. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be in her shoes.

"And our boy is Avery Hayley!"

Oh… maybe he could. Avery tensed as soon as he heard his name. He… he was just reaped. No. No, no, no. What was he going to do? He didn't want to be forced to kill other kids, but if I was ever going to see District Five again, he'd have to. Oh, why did it have to be him?

"Avery? Where are you?" Belphoebe called, her expression confused as she searched for him in the crowd. Probably close to a minute after his name was originally drawn, Avery finally got himself moving. He shook all the way to the stage and couldn't think about anything else than what just happened. When Belphoebe greeted him, Avery couldn't even find words, which was a first for him. Avery numbly shook hands with Iris, before being ushered into the Justice Building for goodbyes.

His first visitor was Maureen, of course. Her eyes were red-rimmed and shimmered with tears, and her arms were wrapped around her as if she were cold. As soon as she entered the room though, she embraced her brother instead.

"Oh, Avery," she said, holding him close. "Why you? I wish I could do something."

"There's nothing you can do, Maureen. Girls can't volunteer for boys, and even if you were a boy, you're so much older than me that it doesn't matter anyway."

Maureen sighed. "I know. I just can't lose you. You're all I have left. Promise me you'll try to come home?"

Avery nodded. "I promise. I'll try."

"Good." Maureen's hand went to her neck, and she gently removed her necklace. It had a green stone in the middle and was the only piece of jewelry she owned. Apparently their father had given it to her when she was thirteen, around the time Avery had been born. "Here. This will be your token."

"Oh, no, Maureen, I can't take your necklace."

Maureen slipped the necklace over his head anyway. "Please Avery. Take it. Let it remind you of everything you have waiting for you back home.

Avery hugged his sister again. "Thanks for everything you've done for me."

"Of course," said Maureen. "You're my little brother. I'll always be here for you."

After she left, Lauree came in the room. She looked as though she was fighting back tears, which was odd since Lauree never cried, at least not in front of Avery. "You fight like hell, Avery. You hear me?"

"I will. I can do it. You won't be rid of me yet," Avery said. Lauree was used to optimism, so that's what he would give her. He couldn't give up, not yet.

"Exactly. Think of all we haven't done yet."

She was right. He had to come home, no matter what it took. He had to have faith. Long after she had gone and his other friends came and went, he stored her words in his head, and kept thinking them until he boarded the train.

* * *

 **Maverick Nash, District 8 Male, 14**

 _david12341_

It would be the first time he saw the sun since last year. It would be the last time he saw the sun for another damn year of living. Three years had flown by, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough.

He didn't sleep a wink the previous night. He had been too busy picking dark scabs off his pale skin. It was all he could do nowadays to keep from going nuts.

"You awake?" Acadia's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What time is it?" Mav asked tiredly, combing the long black hair out of his eyes with his fingers.

"Hell if I know." The girl fell silent. Mav just sighed and closed his eyes again.

He could have been safe. If that one day hadn't happened, he would be back home where he belonged. They would be bustling, he'd be playing with his little sister Dixie. They'd be talking and chattering about the volunteer that was selected. Mav would know that even if he was reaped, there were boys just waiting for the opportunity, the honor to take his place. But he was here.

"No use thinking about it now." It seemed Acadia knew what he was thinking. "We're not there, Nash. We're here." Acadia refused to be called by her first name, and returned the favor for Mav.

Maverick knew he wasn't in District Two. But it still hurt to think about. One day got him here. He wasn't even halfway done with his stay yet. Far from. Two years from. Ten years was a long time to be locked away.

His first year, he pretended he was in District Two. The train ride was just to scare him. They went around in a circle and ended back where they started. That had to be it. They didn't just send people from District to District. No. That didn't happen. He was actually in Two. It was easy to convince himself for that year that he was actually in Two, considering he never got outside. The Peacekeepers were the same. Just as cruel. The people were just as vicious. It wasn't hard to pretend.

His delusion was shattered when he was released for the first time, into a District that reeked of smog and crime, dreary and miserable, and herded to the 12-year-old male section, where he was flanked and watched by Peacekeepers, and had to realize that he was at risk of being reaped.

Mav was surprised he made it this far. He was surprised that he wasn't picked and killed when he was twelve. It would have made sense. More space in the prisons. It would have solved everything. For some reason, he was still here. Maybe because the reaping truly _is_ random. As hard as Mav found that to believe, it was the only explanation. Which kid in this stupid District was damned more than the boy who was sentenced to ten years of prison?

Mav couldn't decide if they were lucky or unlucky. Sometimes death just seemed like the best exit. He'd considered it thoroughly in the past. At the same time, he didn't want to die. He had a release date. Sure, it was far, far away, but he had it. He would get out of there someday. He would make it back home. _That's_ what kept him going.

Besides, Acadia would be pretty lonely without him. She was counting down the days. She had a month. Just a month and then she'd be out of prison. Would she be allowed to go home to her District? Or would she be forced to stay in Eight, left with nothing? Mav wouldn't be surprised if they just threw her out on the street. Then, she would have to pick up right where she left off, stealing just like before. They'd catch her again, throw her in jail again. This time, she wouldn't be with Mav, though. It was purely a mixup of fate that a boy and a girl ended up in the same cell, and because they were young the guards never made the effort to change it.

They'd spent four years side-by-side in that cell. Soon, it'd be over. She'd be free.

And he'd. Still. Be. _Here_.

For six more damn years, he'd still be here. He'd get a new cell-mate, probably an older man. There weren't too many younger people here. No, the only kids that got sent here were ones like him. Ones that had no hope.

Mav's lower lip started to tremble and the boy realized that if he didn't do something, he was going to start crying. That was the last thing he wanted. His greasy black hair hung in his eyes as he threw the paper-thin sheet off of his scrawny, pale body, and sat up. He couldn't cry. He couldn't be scared. Wasn't that the motto of his home? Wasn't that what he had to do here? Was he ever allowed to cry? Of course not. He was surrounded by men. The moment he cried was the moment he would prove that he was nothing but a child. He refused to give the others the satisfaction of seeing his tears.

"Acadia? You awake?" He was met with no response, which meant that the girl had done the impossible and gotten to sleep. Mav wished he knew the time. It could be midnight, it could be three in the morning. All he knew is that they would take them for breakfast at five o'clock. He was aiming for that. He closed his eyes again, not intending on sleeping, but hoping he could half doze off. That way he'd be able to wake himself up if he started thinking about Dixie.

The lights snapped on before he knew it, and a voice barked, "Rise and shine! Time to hit the showers!"

That's right. It was reaping day. He would get to clean himself. And, since he was at risk of being reaped, he even got a lump of soap.

He went with the other prisoners, flanked by Peacekeepers. He stripped off his clothes and went into a stall. The only thing he continued to wear was his necklace. It was the only reminder he had of home. The only thing he had left. He had taking many an injury to protect it.

"Any day now, Nash!" shouted that same harsh voice that had jostled him awake. Maverick flushed and finished showering quickly, not wanting the guards to hurt him. He didn't take the time to clean the blood out of the engraving before he had to dry off, wring out his hair, and put on the generic but nice clothes they provided for the reaping. He put the necklace back under his shirt, out of sight. Mav got his serving and looked around for Acadia, but the girl was nowhere in sight. He sunk at their usual table, keeping his eyes on his food as people walked past. He felt lustful eyes on him and when he looked up, saw Hartford, who knew what was around his neck: and wasn't afraid to play dirty to get it. Mav held his gaze defiantly as the nineteen-year-old walked past.

 _Lucky bastard_ , Mav thought, barely noticing the hand that rested on his stomach instinctively when Hartford was near. _Safe from the reaping._

Luckily, Acadia found him and took a seat across from him. Her black hair was wet as well, and she looked in much higher spirits than she was that morning.

"Did you wash behind your ears?" she asked, eating all of her breakfast in one bite.

Mav gave a weak laugh. "Yeah. I did."

"Me too." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Felt good."

Mav gave a tiny nod. Sure, it felt nice to be rinsed, but the day soiled everything that came with it. Would he get reaped? The anxiety grew every year. Mav refused to let his guard down, refused to pretend that he wouldn't be reaped. He knew he would… It was just a matter of when. _Then again_ , Mav thought, _Maybe they don't want to give me the sweet release of dying._

It was miserable there. Being reaped and dying would effectively end his sentence early. Maybe they just wanted him to suffer more. After all, people like Hartford, who never went down without a fight and could turn anything into a weapon, were safe from the reaping. Maybe they would wait until the very last minute, when Mav was sure he'd be safe and be able to get home someday, and ruin it. Maybe they'd wait until he was effectively dead, starved, pale, a human skeleton, before sending him away. He felt like a skeleton already, and as time went by, it would only get worse.

"Breakfast's up! Line up!" The voice boomed. It was just like any other morning. All of the criminals fell into line, in perfect order by cell. They were distributed back to their places, and left to their own devices for the rest of the time before the reapings. Mav was on-edge. Being left to sit alone for hours just brought thoughts of what once was, and what could happen.

After, the two of them were left in silence, torturous silence, until they finally herded up the prisoners: eligible tributes in one, and all others in another. Acadia stayed behind Mav, and the small group of prisoners younger than eighteen were escorted by guards to the reaping. Mav's blood was scanned and he was whisked away from Acadia before he even got to say a proper goodbye to her. He hissed at the guards as they whisked him away from his only friend.

The reaping started quickly, Zatheniya Caireese taking the stage. The clumsy woman almost tripped as she scurried up to the microphone, the cake-like blonde wig wobbling, even though her real periwinkle and lavender hair was tied around it for support. Mav snorted, and a guard sneered at him, but he sneered right back. As Zatheniya stood up, the light reflected off of her golden-caked face and got into everyone's eyes. She was just ridiculous. When she spoke, her lips didn't move. The District knew that the escort was mute, the microphone was just for show as her artificial voice was synchronized with an amplifying device to make sure her words are heard.

"Welcome, District Eight, to the reaping for the Ninety-Sixth annual Hunger Games." Her eyes held remorse and fear. "Without further ado… Let's choose our tributes." She stumbled to the girls' bowl first and plucked out a name. "Dinah Cambric."

A commotion breaks out in the fifteen-year-old section.

"Dinah! I volunteer! Dinah!" another girl in the section starts to squabble, and the reaped girl shoves her backwards, causing more screaming and commotion. It gets so bad that Peacekeepers have to intervene, all screaming. Finally, they take the fire-cracker by the mouth, and the reaped tribute, Dinah, comes forward, tears pooling up in her eyes. She was perfectly average, maybe on the tall side, but not particularly noticeable. Mav wanted to get to know that girl that caused such a stink. Sounded like his kind of person.

Zatheniya's lower lip began to quiver and her eyes filled with tears. Mav rolled his eyes as she quickly went to the boy's section and picked a name. "Maverick Nash!"

All eyes went over. Mav felt his heart skip a beat. It was _him_. Refusing to show weakness, he started to the stage. With each step, he became more and more angry. He couldn't believe this was happening. He was getting screwed all over again. He stomped up the steps, rage clutching at his chest. Zatheniya gave him a sad, apologetic, almost heart-broken look, but Mav didn't want her pity. He just scowled at her.

"Everyone, your District Eight tributes, Dinah Cambric and Maverick Nash."

As Mav shook his District partner's hand, he realized that this isn't the end. If he won, he'd be free. He'd be rich. He'd make it home seven years early. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all.

His first and only visitor was Acadia. She seemed pretty calm when a peacekeeper allowed her in and barked at her to hurry up, though her eyes held a sad look. "Why do you think it was you?" she asked.

"Maybe I was reaped to die. Maybe dumb luck. But I'll make sure they can't kill me. There have been tributes that were reaped to die and made it out. There have been criminal Victors." His first thought was Bronx Stringer, a high-stakes drug dealer that became a Victor almost sixty years ago. It happened once, what's to say it wouldn't happen again?

"You're right." Acadia took a deep breath, trying to stay relaxed. "Fourteen is young, but there have been fourteen-year-old Victors. You have a shot."

"That's the spirit. By the time I get back, you'll be free. We'll have a house. A place to start."

"Thanks." She gave a small genuine smile, which he returned. "I won't be sappy with you. Not till you come back."

"Sounds fair to me."

Acadia put out her hand, and Mav shook it with a firm grip. "Good luck out there," she said.

"Thanks." She gave a last nod and left, holding her head high.

Mav closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this. He could make it out of there alive, he could win the Hunger Games. All he had to do was murder.

 _Wouldn't be a problem,_ he thought.

 _Been there, done that._

* * *

 _ **Authors' Note:**_ _Another reaping come and gone! Just one more after this, and then we can move on to pregames stuff. :) Okay, I have nothing else to say, so I'm just going to let Celtic make an announcement._

 **ALRIGHT! Peeps, I've got a new project and you're all invited to take part! :) It's called Danzón and it's a full SYOT! Thanks to everyone that submitted already, and if you haven't, please feel free!** _Also, on her own, Celtic is a faster updater than me, so don't worry about her new project slowing down this story or this story slowing down Danzón. It won't, we promise._ **I worked on my first SYOT, Silhouettes, while doing this, and Silhouettes averaged out an update a week :) So yeah, please feel welcome to check out Danzón!**

 _ **Chapter Question: Same. Who'd you like better and why?**_


	9. Districts 6 and 7 Reapings

**Districts Six and Seven Reapings**

* * *

 **Nerrah Salvador, District 6 Female, 17**

 _Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg_

Salvador's Garage was busier than ever.

Every single Salvador was put to work, from her father Kain, all the way down to her little nephew, Franco, who was running from place to place. Nerrah was right in the middle of the action. She was under the car of one of the high-class families, hard at work.

"How's it going down there, Sweetpea?" Nerrah heard the voice of her Uncle Balor calling to her. From all of her time spent under cars, Nerrah had learned to decipher her Uncle's voice from her Father's. It was true that Balor and Kain Salvador were practically identical, the only difference being the thick dark beard that adorned her father's chin, the only trait not shared by the brothers.

Nerrah pushed her feet on the floor, effectively rolling out from under the car. She reached up instinctively to wipe the grease off of her cheek and gave her uncle a cheeky smile. "Call me Sweetpea again and I'll throw your left arm in the blender." She laughed a bit and continued. "It's going fine, though. This buggy'll be good to go in just a few more minutes." She wiped some sweat from her forehead.

"Thatta girl," Uncle Balor said, going to check up on Wade, who was recently promoted to Head Mechanic. Nerrah pushed off, back under the vehicle, and continued her work. She couldn't help the toothy grin at imagining her actually chopping her Uncle's arm off and blending it for a midmorning snack. She loved her Uncle too much to actually do that, of course, but the mental picture was just funny to her.

When her check-up and oiling was done, Nerrah kicked out from under the car, and was greeted by her half-brother Quentin, eyes alight.

"Can I go under the car Nerrah?" he asked sunnily.

Nerrah stood up, cracking her back and stretching. "Not today," she said, "Maybe if Dad says you can, after the reaping."

"Okay!" he beamed and hopped excitedly on his feet. His sunny disposition was barely tainted by the upcoming reaping, though he was well aware of the risk it held for Nerrah. She wished she could be the same. She was pretty rough around the edges, and didn't like to let her fear show, but there was always just a whisper of fear in the back of her mind. She might be reaped. She knew she had it in her to win, but even the most worthy tributes had been taken down in the past, thanks to stupid fate.

She pulled her ponytail of thick black curls tighter as she went to find Harland.

Her half-brother wasn't hard to find, even in the chaos. She spotted hois orangey-ginger hair from across the room, and crossed the room to him, the familiar smirk she was known for still pasted on her face.

"Hey Harland!" her oldest step-brother, at 30, gave her a small smile before coughing into his elbow. Nerrah's facade didn't break. She was used to seeing him like this, quite frankly. His persisting feebleness was the biggest reason he was sitting with the books instead of at work.

"Hey Nerrah, sup?"

"I got the Bellamy car all done and oiled up," she said.

"Oh, good. I think Wade could use your help with the Cartwrights'. It's a toughie."

"Mmkay, I'll go see what's up." She crossed the room to where her step-brother was under the car. She'd learned to recognize her various family members by their legs alone, even in the identical coveralls they all wore. "What's happening?" she asked.

"About time," Wade responded, rolling out from under the car. "Busted motor is the biggest problem I see. Although that's not the only problem we've got here. This buggy's seen some shit."

Nerrah laughed. "Alright. I'll take a look at it." She put up the hood of the car and immediately knew it would be a challenge. However, she was determined to fix it, and worked all morning long tirelessly, tweaking this and that, minor details, trying to get it to kick back to life. Working on the car, Nerrah lost track of time. She so much enjoyed what she did, and never wanted to do anything else. She had truly found her calling right here in the Garage.

"How's it going?" Nerrah looked up at her father's voice.

"It's going."

He just gave her a warm smile. "Not every problem can be solved. I'll take a look at it and see if there's anything I can do. You should probably go get changed for the reaping."

Nerrah blinked. "It's reaping time already? We just got started!"

"Go home and get dressed, Nerrah. Enjoy some time with your friends. You've worked hard, you deserve it."

Nerrah hugged her father and kissed his cheek. "Alright. Thanks Dad." She knew that she wouldn't be young forever, and wanted to enjoy the days she could leave work early while she still had them. She went back home and took a shower, washing the grime and oil off and enjoyed the feeling of being clean, though she knew it wouldn't last long. She combed out her dark curls and put on a nice shirt, jacket, and dress pants. Nerrah smirked when she saw her reflection in the mirror. She looked pretty good, and she knew it. She walked out the door confidently, in typical Nerrah Salvador style.

She headed to the Square, still smirking and keeping her head held high. She knew exactly where she would find her best friend. She walked to the bakery, cutting through the crowds, until she caught glimpse of his familiar blond hair, and picked up her pace. He loved the bakery and when they were dating, told her she was as sweet as any pastry in the room. They had since then broken up, but remained best friends, and Wyatt lit up when he saw her approaching.

"Hey!" he said cheerfully.

"Hello," she said, looking at the various treats in the case. "Any ideas what you're going to get?"

"I don't know. I'm just looking for now. I think those mini croissants look delicious though."

Wyatt decided and ordered, but on the way to get them, the jolly baker slipped and fell, making a huge thumping noise. Wyatt and a few others ran to help, but Nerrah just covered her mouth and laughed. Even when the baker was clearly in pain, Nerrah couldn't stop. She kept seeing it happen over and over again in her head, and kept on laughing. Wyatt knew she had this sense of humor, and wasn't surprised when she turned and left to keep from laughing out loud when the baker was struggling to stand up.

Nerrah met up with another of her friends, Claudette on the way to their section. She looked pretty, in a frilly skirt, leggings, and nice shirt. She always looked pretty, but today she looked especially good. They were currently off, but Nerrah wouldn't have been surprised if they'd be on again by the next month. She was Nerrah's true first love, though their relationship was more on and off than consistent commitment.

Nerrah just smiled fondly at her friend as the exchanged greetings and stood in line to be checked in. Together, the two girls walked to the section for seventeen-year-old females, where they stood together and made small-talk until the reapings began.

The escort was still fairly new. Sayaka Kanon had been escorting since the 94th Games, when Nerrah was 15. It was the year right after… Nerrah closed her eyes. She couldn't think about that now.

Instead, she surveyed Sayaka. The escort was wearing a white short-sleeved dress with a wide neckline, knee-length skirt and lacy bows at the front. She also wore a pair of rose pink heels that disgusted Nerrah. Her face was covered in white make-up with smoky bright pink eye shadow and pink lips. Her hair is a whitish platinum blonde, tied into a loose updo. She also wore a headdress decorated with different colored flowers that dangled a bit in her face.

Nerrah imagined her with a knife in a horror movie, charging after the mayor and stabbing him repeatedly in the back as blood spurted out, laughing and chanting some nursery rhyme as the crowd screamed and her pretty white dress was stained in crimson blood. She started laughing, harder and harder, until the reaping actually began.

"Welcome everyone, welcome." Her voice is gentle, trying to calm this group of people who are horrified. "This is the reaping for the ninety-sixth annual Hunger Games."

Nerrah spent the video picturing the pretty little escort on a murderous rampage to distract her from the fear of the reaping. It was funny to her, and she laughed as she thought more and more about it. The thought of her ripping off the mayor's arm and beating people with it made Nerrah laugh loud enough that some of the other girls gave her strange looks. Finally, the video was over and Sayaka chose a name from the females' bowl.

"Nerrah Salvador."

Nerrah immediately looked up. She was devastated, but that didn't matter now. She was already in survival mode, so she put on a stoic brave face and started up the steps to join Sakaya. She had to have sponsors, and this was a good way to get them. She kept walking until she made it, looking out among the crowds of people and closing her eyes.

Sakaya patted her shoulder before crossing over to choose a male tribute. "Devon Steele."

Nerrah was relieved that Wyatt was officially straight from reapings, and held her breath as her District partner came out of the seventeen-year-old section. He had dirty blond hair and was pale like her, with a bit of muscle on his arms and legs to keep him from looking like a skeleton. He remained calm and stoic like she did as he came up the stairs to join them, and Nerrah couldn't see a hint of fear in his light brown eyes.

Sakaya presented the tributes one last time and patted them on the shoulder as they shook hands. Then, Nerrah was guided into the Justice Building.

All of the employees from Salvador's Garage came together. Nerrah's father was the first to envelope her in a tight hug, and she hugged back appreciatively. She buried her face in his shoulder and did everything not to cry. Neither of them said anything, but they didn't need to.

As soon as they let go she hugged her Uncle Balor. After losing his daughter Samera to the Hunger Games just a few years back, Nerrah knew this was tough for him. Thinking about her cousin brought a lump to her throat, but Nerrah swallowed it down.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm going to make it back. I'll avenge her." They both knew there was not really anything to avenge, considering Samera was devoured by mutts, but Nerrah would win as a testament to her anyways. She let go of her uncle and hugged her step-mother Nadine, who was crying quietly.

"Sh…" Nerrah said quietly. "It's alright. I'm going to make it home. I'm going to do everything I can."

Nadine kept crying quietly. "I know you're going to try your best," she said quietly. "I know you can do it."

Wade and his wife Lorna hugged her together. They whispered encouraging words to her, and Nerrah just closed her eyes and listened. After that, she picked up Franco and kissed his forehead, promising when she got back she'd buy the four-year-old all the candy and toys he wanted, which pleased him, and made his parents smile just a little bit.

Nerrah crossed the room to hug Harland, who she could tell was trying not to cough while they were hugging. He whispered "I love you" over and over, and she returned it.

Finally, she felt a tug on her pant leg and saw Quentin. She knelt down to be the same height as the eight-year-old and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm going to come home, okay?"

Quentin was trembling, tears falling out of his eyes. "Nerrah…"

"Sh… I promise. Then we'll be rich and we'll live in a nice house. I'll still be me, alright? I'll still fix cars and we'll still go out together and shop and play. Alright? I'll just be gone for a little while."

He trembled but nodded, and Nerrah could tell she was trying not to cry as he held out his favorite red car toy. "Take this," he said quietly. "You'll still be you and fix cars. Take this."

Nerrah took it gently. "Thank you," she said, kissing his head. "I love you."

She let him go and addressed the rest of her family. "I love you all. Thank you for your support. Thank you for the person you've made me."

Her family stepped into a big group hug with Nerrah right in the center of them, calm and steady with the occasional sniffle or sob. They all murmured "I love you"s to her, which she returned quickly.

"Time's up," the Peacekeepers said, looking apologetic. Nerrah knew some of them from her work fixing cars. Her family let her go, and Nerrah watched them go, swallowing a lump in her throat.

Sakaya guided her and Devon out to the train, and soon they were speeding away from everything Nerrah had ever known.

* * *

 **Rowan Axton, District 7 Male, 17**

 _Maddymellark_

The Reaping wasn't due to start until noon, yet Rowan was out the door by seven in the morning. He didn't have anywhere particular to go at this time of day this time of year. Instead, Rowan just liked to run. He enjoyed being active, and in addition to being a long-distance runner, was the sixth-place wrestler at his school. The honor seemed to belong to Rowan just by looking at him. Standing at six-foot-one, Rowan was a sturdy boy, with strong muscles from working in the trees. Despite his size, he wasn't often seen as intimidating due to his large, warm brown eyes and the constant smile he sported.

Rowan glanced up at the sky and realized more gray clouds had begun to roll in. He decided to cut his run short, knowing that if his mop of brown hair, which lightened to a sandy color in the summer as it was beginning to now, got caught in the rain, it would curl, making it harder to manage at the reaping. He turned back, and slipped through the front door of his family's small home just as the first raindrops were beginning to hit. Sliding off his running shoes, Rowan entered the kitchen, where his fifteen-year-old sister Aspen was eating breakfast.

"Hey, you're not wet," Aspen said with a smirk.

Rowan grinned. "Nope. I made it back just in time. Is mom working?"

"No," Aspen replied. "She's asleep. I think she plans to work after the reaping, though, if we get the early wagon back."

Rowan nodded and poured himself a bowl of the bland cereal he always ate. With very little money to live off of, life was tough, and the Axton family could afford only the simplest foods. Rowan couldn't complain though, as at least he and Aspen were fed and had a roof over their head, thanks to their hardworking mother. Acacia Axton worked long hours as a cleaner, leaving the house before dawn and often not returning until seven or eight at night.

For eleven years, she had struggled to provide for Rowan and Aspen after her husband was killed in a lumber accident.

Acacia was on her own, until the winter after Rowan turned fifteen. That winter was the harshest both Rowan and Aspen could ever remember. To make matters worse, a terrible epidemic struck their District Seven village of Frontenac; Aspen was infected and the Axtons were short of enough money to buy the medicine she needed. As a result, Rowan had dropped out of school to work among the trees.

By the time the two of them had earned enough money for the medicine, Aspen had nearly died twice. However, once they were finally able to give her the medicine, Aspen made a full recovery. Rowan hadn't returned to school since, though. Although he didn't work nearly as long as his mother, he wanted to take some weight off of her shoulders. It was the right thing to do, a sacrifice Rowan was willing to make.

"Well, our wagon leaves at ten. Let's let her sleep until nine to leave her time to get ready," said Rowan.

District Seven was a rather large district, which meant traveling to the capital city of Lindbergh, where the reaping was held, took a great deal of time. Lindbergh was the biggest settlement in Seven, with thirty-seven major towns and hundreds of smaller lumberjack camps spread out in all directions. Rowan's town, Frontenac, was one of the closest to Lindbergh, only about an hour north of it by wagon, though some towns were only reachable by logging trains, which also carried potential tributes once a year on reaping day. Even then, some citizens had to ride the trains for up to three hours just to arrive at the reaping on time.

"Good plan," Aspen said.

The Axton siblings finished their breakfast, chatting as they did so. Rowan cracked jokes, and Aspen laughed at some and rolled her eyes at others. Both did their best to ignore the impending reaping.

At around eight-thirty, Rowan took a quick bath before going to wake his mother. He felt bad waking her. She got so little sleep. The Reaping was mandatory attendance, though, even for adults, so it was necessary.

"Mom," said Rowan, shaking her shoulder gently. "It's time for the reaping."

His mother's eyes opened slowly, blinking away the remnants of sleep. She smiled drowsily at him. "Good morning, Rowan. You look handsome."

Rowan smiled back. "Thanks, Mom. It must be my parents' great genes," he joked. He smile widened when his mother laughed.

"I suppose I should get myself ready," Acacia said, sliding out of bed.

Rowan nodded, leaving her room. An hour later, they pulled on their old, tattered rain jackets and headed out into rain to meet the wagon. A large cluster of people had already gathered, including Rowan's best friends, Oakley Polar and Oakley's cousin, Linden Hayes.

Oakley was leaning against the wagon, attempting to woo Fauna Harrisburg, while Linden hovered a short distance away, looking bored out of his mind. When the latter saw Rowan, he smirked and rolled his eyes.

"I swear Fauna, despite the rain, I can find ways to have a good time," Oakley was saying to his female companion. "Trust me. I can be quite entertaining. I'll treat you like a queen."

Fauna smiled charmingly. "Hm… Sounds tempting. I'll think about it." She turned to Rowan. "Hey, Rowan."

"Hi Fauna. What's up Oakley?"

"Not much. Just talking to an angel."

"Hey, Oakley! Stop flirting and get on the wagon. Unless you want to stand the whole way!"

"Fine, fine. Go ahead, Fauna, ladies first."

Rowan smiled at his best friends charismatic nature. They met in elementary school, with Rowan, the class clown, catching the attention of the loud, yet popular Oakley. Oakley could have chosen anyone to befriend in the second grade, but saw Rowan as the fun-loving jokester he was and decided there could be no better best friend for him. Rowan then met Linden through Oakley, and the boys had been inseparable ever since.

The ride to Lindbergh had the potential to be pleasant, when the weather was dry. Even under the thick tree cover, rain managed to soak everyone. As a result, not many people were in the mood to talk. Rowan cracked an occasional joke and Linden responded with a sarcastic comment or two, but for the most part, the ride was quiet. Reaping Day tended to put a dreary mood on people anyway, and the rain certainly wasn't much help. Finally, the trees thinned, and Lindbergh came into view. The wagon rolled by the city's mills and markets before coming to a stop a short distance from the Justice Building.

One by one, the citizens of Frontenac hopped off the wagon. Parents hugged their children goodbye and headed to the adult section, while teenagers joined the lines to check in. Aspen and her friends went first, and Rowan, Oakley, and Linden followed behind. The Peacekeeper who checked Rowan in was rough, shoving the needle into his finger without any sort of gentleness at all. Rowan waved goodbye to his sister, then walked with Oakley and Linden to the seventeen-year-old male pen.

The mayor, who looked very irritated to be standing out in the rain, kept his speech short and was quick to announce the escort to the stage. Helena Ygritte Patrinious was a woman with white painted skin, hair dyed red and elaborately braided, and green eyes that looked as though they could easily be natural rather than contacts. As always, she was wearing green. This year, her dress was a bright lime green, and like most years, it was covered with shamrocks. Her outfit was far too bright for such a rainy day. Perhaps the most distinguishing feature of Helena was not a part of her outfit, but rather her fluffy, green pet cat, Ferdinand, who was perched in her hair.

"Thank you, District Seven!" Helena called from under her oversized green umbrella. "Let's play the video."

No one in the District cared about it, nor had they for ninety-six years. Rowan had seen it enough times that he could probably recite it backwards if he tried. Finally, it was over, and Helena took the stage once again.

"Well, now, don't you all look like drowned rats," Helena said with a smirk. "I'm so glad Ferdinand and I are dry up here, aren't you? Although, I hope he doesn't mistake you for actual rats."

Rowan rolled his eyes. Helena thought she was hilarious, and probably assumed the district to be too stupid to get her jokes just because they didn't laugh. As much as Rowan loved jokes, Helena's just weren't funny.

Helena reached into the females' bowl and withdrew a name. "Let's see who the… fortunate girl is… Pyra Leyland!"

A girl stepped out from the section of thirteen-year-olds. She was tall for her age, but that didn't change the fact that she was so young. She tried to keep a straight face, but as many young girls would, couldn't keep from breaking down in tears for long. She anxiously turned to look at the section of eighteen-year-girls after if searching for someone, but only sobbed hardly when she didn't see what she clearly had expected. It was a shame a thirteen-year-old was reaped, since many older tributes from Seven could be tough competitors, but Rowan was just glad it wasn't Aspen.

"There, there. You'll be okay. Maybe you'll win," Helena sneered as the young girl climbed the stage. Her voice was harsh and sarcastic, and Rowan couldn't help but feel bad for Pyra. The girl clearly picked up on the sarcasm, and took a moment to glare at the escort through her tears, which only caused Helena to smirk again. She then strutted over to the males' bowl and chose her second name.

"Our brave boy is… Rowan Axton!"

Rowan's jaw fell open and a small gasp escaped. He did his best to look like the "brave boy" Helena had called, but knew he was likely failing. He was too stunned to act for the cameras.

"Such a strong, handsome young man," Helena said with a wink when he took his place.

Rowan couldn't help but wince. Was his escort flirting with him? He was no stranger to be flirted with, but never before had he imagined a Capitolite escort would flirt with him. It kind of creeped him out.

"District Seven, you're tributes are Prya Leyland and Rowan Axton. Shake hands!"

Rowan did so, taking Pyra's hand carefully and giving her a small, gentle smile, though she didn't hold his gaze long. After the handshake, Peacekeepers lead them to individual rooms inside the Justice Building. Rowan awkwardly sat on the couch the room provided and awaited his first visitors.

As he expected, his mother and sister were the first in the room. His mother was teary, and even Aspen looked like she was fighting to keep her emotions in check. Rowan hugged them both, not wanting to let either go.

"I can't lose you, too, Rowan," his mother whispered. "You and Aspen are all I have."

"I'll fight, Mom. I promise."

"You'd better," said Aspen. "I'll never forgive you if you don't."

"Oh no," Rowan tried to joke. "We can't have that."

Aspen glared at him. "I mean it, Rowan. I'll _never_ forgive you if you just give up. I can forgive killing if it's you or them, but I can't forgive cowardice."

"Aspen!" Acacia warned sternly.

"It's fine, Mom," said Rowan. "She just wants me home."

He hugged them both one more time before the Peacekeepers opened the door to let them leave. Oakley and Linden came in next.

"Dude, you've got this!" Oakley said. "You've got height on your side. Besides, you're fast and have good endurance, and don't forget wrestling."

"Thanks, Oakley," Rowan replied, managing a weak smile.

"Remember to study survival, too. Oh, and maybe don't die," Linden added.

Rowan laughed. "I'll try, but imagine how cool it would be if I came back a zombie."

"Yeah. Rising from the dirt. Eating brains. Cool," Linden deadpanned, causing Rowan and Oakley to laugh. This is why Rowan loved his friends. They could joke around even in dark situations.

Too soon, the Peacekeepers forced both boys from the room. Rowan was left to his own devices until he was called to board the train. He didn't know what to expect in the Capitol, but he knew that life was never going to be the same.

* * *

 _ **Authors' Note:**_ _**Happy 2017!**_ _We're finally done with reapings! Sorry it has taken so long._ **We've started planning our pre-Games chapters, hopefully they'll come out faster than the reapings. It's just so hard to motivate yourself to write a reaping, y'know? Hope you've enjoyed the story thus far, thanks for sticking with us!**

 **Also, I'm still working on drawings. I know I'm behind, I'm sorry T.T It will happen though.**

 _ **Chapter Question: Same. Which did you like better and why? You know the drill :P**_


	10. Train Rides I

**Train Rides Part 1**

 **Amalissa Blackthorne Vesallius, District Two Female, 18**

 _ **deathless. smile**_

From the time she was a little girl, Ama had always known what she wanted to do in life. Children in District Two were often taught to value ambition, no matter what path they choose. For most, that ambition was geared towards training in hopes that someday, they would be able to volunteer. While Ama enjoyed training and put a great amount of effort into it, her goal had always been to become a veterinarian. Yet, here she was, on a Capitol-bound train as the District Two female tribute for the Ninety-sixth annual Hunger Games.

Being selected to volunteer was a turn of events Ama had never expected. She was ranked second in her group of girls, behind the popular Kylee Strauss. Kylee had been the clear choice for years, but plans changed when she purposely broke her leg less than a month before the reaping. As the next highest ranking female, Ama was asked to volunteer. Even though she was happy with her life and had already been accepted to get her undergraduate degree in pre-veterinary medicine at a Capitol university, Ama hesitantly accepted. She didn't want to end like Kylee, who was scorned throughout the district for throwing away her chances at bringing pride to district Two. Ama knew that if she declined the request to volunteer, word would spread quickly, and she would be seen as a shameful coward. Besides, if she won, there was no law saying a victor couldn't become a veterinarian after winning. Ama didn't care about the money as much as she cared about animals anyway.

After saying her goodbyes to her friends and family, Ama was joined by her district partner, Ares. Their new escort, Lord Clovander Handsome, stood on the platform to greet them. Ama couldn't see his eyes as they were covered by shades, but his mouth was twisted into a slight smirk. He was an odd looking man, with long salt-and-pepper colored hair tied back and a thin beard dangling from his chin. What caught Ama's attention, though, was the petite black and white monkey perched on Clovander's shoulder. Immediately, she let out a squeal of delight.

"Oh, a monkey! He's adorable! Is he your pet? What's his name?"

Clovander nodded. "His name is Benedict, and yes, of course he's mine. I have several pets in fact. My crow, Argos, my snake, Snuggles, and my dog, Dog, are all on the train already. Speaking of which, we should be, too. Come on, then, follow me."

"Can we see them?" Ama asked eagerly. Ares stared at her, studying her critically, but she ignored his gaze.

"Oh of course! They're all friendly." Clovander paused. "Actually, not right away. Your mentors will probably want to speak with you, won't they?"

Right. The mentors. As much as she wanted to spend hours with Clovander's animals, Ama knew she had to focus on the task at hand.

As expected, the mentors were waiting for them when they stepped onto the train. The older of the two, Cato Bailor, victor of the Seventy-fourth Games gave them a polite nod, while his mentoring partner, Pit Kensy of the Eightieth Games motioned for them to take a seat.

"Alright," Pit began. "You know who we are, so I doubt we need to waste time with our introductions. Cato will be mentoring Ares, and I'll be working with Amalissa. Would you like to talk with us separately or together?"

Ama glanced at Ares, not really having a preference either way. The last thing she wanted to do was get on her bulky district partner's bad side.

"Alone," Ares said without looking at her.

Cato nodded. "We'll go into the next car."

As the guys left, Ama gazed out the window, admiring the mountains as the train weaved through them. Ama had never seen the mountains so close before, as only the poor quarry workers lived out there. Ama lived in Roma, the capital city of Two, close to the main Training Academy. Growing up, the mountains had seemed so far awhile, a border between her home and the glorious Capitol. In reality, the Capitol was only about an hour's train ride away.

Pit cleared her throat, causing Ama to turn back towards her mentor. "Sorry. I'm ready."

"Hmph. You're as easy to distract as my son, Damon, and he's ten."

Ama straightened up, wanting the renowned Pit to take her seriously. "Right. My apologies. It won't happen again."

Pit gave a firm nod. "So, Amalissa, what is your plan?"

"You can call me Ama," she said automatically. "I want to be a part of the Career alliance, of course. As long as they're trustworthy, I'll stick around. If not, I'll leave when the moment is right."

"We can work with that," Pit replied. "What about training?"

"I was thinking about just warming up for the Games and polishing my sword and dagger skills. My parents think I should also analyze the other tributes. Do you agree?"

"Absolutely. Just make sure you don't underestimate anyone. Ignoring one person can fuck up your whole Game plan if you don't treat everyone as a threat. I'm sure you've seen reruns of Johanna Mason's Games?" Ama nodded. "Good. So you know what I'm talking about. Do you have any interest in being pack leader?"

"I don't think so, but I'll step up to the plate if no one else does."

"Whatever you think will work for you." She smiled proudly. "I, as you probably know, was thrown into an alliance with the loudest, most annoying boy from One I'd ever seen in my life. He wanted to take charge, but I refused to let him tell us what to do, vain bastard. I grabbed the reigns and nobody fought me." She sighed happily as she turned her focus back to the present. "Each Career is different, though. No two have ever won in the same way. You have to use your own strengths. Which leads us to our next topic; What are your strengths?"

"I'm best with swords and daggers. I'm also pretty agile on an obstacle course."

"Hm. That's a start. Stick with that. Prove your worth to the pack leader, whether it is Ares or someone else, but don't give them a reason to try to knock you out early."

Ama nodded, soaking in Pit's advice. Ama was full of questions, though for some, Pit shushed her. "We'll have time when we get there. If I overload you with information now, chances are you'll just forget it and I'll have to repeat myself anyway."

Ama was so immersed in her conversation that she didn't even notice how quickly the hour was passing. Sooner than expected, she heard a knock on the train car door before Clovander slide it open. Benedict the monkey was gone, but in his place stood a dog so stunning, Ama let out a small gasp. The black and tan dog was tall, standing at about two feet tall at the shoulders, slightly taller than the fluffier, stockier German Shepherds she knew worked at the Peacekeeper Academy back hope in District Two. She was slender, yet muscular, and her ears were cropped, giving her an even more menacing look. Her dark eyes were zeroed in on Ama and Pit, watching their every move..

"We'll arrive in the Capitol in ten minutes, so I suggest you get ready! We'll be one of the first districts to arrive, so we'll head to your floor in the Tribute Center to watch the recaps before you're scheduled to meet with your stylists."

"Thanks," Ama said, giving the escort a smile.

Clovander nodded. "Dog, heel!" As though she was on an invisible leash, Dog turned with him immediately and walked side by side out the door.

"Well, ready for the fun to begin?" asked Pit.

Ama nodded confidently. She was ready to get these Games over with so she could get home and follow her dreams.

* * *

 **Apple Grey, District Three Female, 18**

 _ **AmericanPi**_

Apple splashed water on her face, cursing the tears that stained her cheeks. She had to be at her very best when she met her mentor for the first time. She wanted them to look at her and see a winner in the works. She wanted them to see that yes, she was worth the time and effort.

She had been hoping maybe she would be reaped beside a younger kid, maybe a typical Three tribute with smarts and no athletic ability. It would have been easy to show that kind of kid up in a competition like this, because she was the opposite of that. She was far from typical. She was tall and built strong. She was athletic, and outgoing, and determined. She could care less about school and technology shit, unlike her older sisters. With her toned arms and legs, she surely would have outshone most any scrawny District kid that would have been her District partner.

However, the kid she ended up getting reaped beside was also far from the typical. He was a hulking guy, and was fiery when he was reaped instead of betraying fear. Apple knew that to keep up with him, she was going to have to put in some work. She wouldn't let that slow her down, though. She was determined to come out on top every time. That's what drove her when she was playing soccer, and that was going to drive her now.

It was so easy to get a soccer game started. All you needed was a ball. In a District of tightwads who were constantly talking about work, soccer was a release. It was a release from the stress of constantly being pressured to be smart. Not everyone was a genius, and of the people that weren't, not everyone was a try-hard. Some people just couldn't keep up with the geniuses and frankly didn't want to. That's why Apple really felt at home in the Sports Society. Soccer wasn't the only thing they played there, of course, but it was by far Apple's favorite.

The Sports Society was like a second home to Apple and her younger brother, who was affectionately called Little Mac. It was where she made many of her friends, and had fellowship with them. The goal of the Society was to preserve many of the sports that were prevalent before the formation of Panem. Maybe Three could have used some of its wealth to make training Centers, if they really wanted to, but instead the ambitious District used it to expand their factories and facilities. President Rutilus had just signed a bill that would begin the construction of an, Capitol-funded University in the most urban part of the District. Construction was set to begin in a month, when there were no cameras on the Town Square. After all, construction could get ugly.

Delly and P.C. were psyched when the bill became law. They celebrated the night away. Delly and her husband Steve Keys, who everyone called "Sticky," were celebrating that their ten-year-old daughter Ampere and eight-year-old son Logan would be able to go to University after high school and get well-paying jobs. P.C. and her wife Lydia, were optimistic about the growth of the field of mechanics that would happen when young minds were cultivated to specialize in the field. They were excited for any children they adopted to go there, as well. They often asked Apple about kicking her grades up so that she could get into University once it was built, and were hopeful that Little Mac would get to go there as well.

Apple was pretty indifferent about them, and so was Mac. Their parents and sisters thought they were strange because of this, because Apple and Mac had always been more interested in playing sports than sitting in class. However, in the end the family loved each other, even if Apple and Mac weren't academically ambitious.

"Apple? Are you alright, Dear?" the girl looked up at hearing her escort's voice. Candy always seemed so professional and elegant, but now she sounded concerned, almost like Apple's mother when she came back with bruises or a gash from her most recent victory. Football was particularly rough, and seriously competitive soccer didn't come without the occasional injury, but Apple didn't mind. They made her tougher.

"Yes," Apple slid the door to the bathroom open, taking a deep breath. "I'm fine. Thank you."

Candy's purple eyes still held concern in them.

"Argon and Geno are out and ready for you," she said. "If you're ready for them."

Apple kept her smile on. "Of course. Sorry for concerning you," she said. She flipped her shoulder-length blonde hair and walked back out into the main room, where Geno and Argon were talking to Marco. Marco seemed pretty awkward and uncomfortable as the mentors asked him questions about his strengths and weaknesses. He seemed more than slightly relieved when Candy escorted Apple back into the room.

"There she is," Geno says. Like Little Mac, the Seventy-Third Victor was short in stature, even to this day. Thinking about her brother made the tears threaten to come back, so Apple glanced at the Eighty-Second Victor instead.

"Welcome back. Have some food, take a seat," Argon said, his normally charming and flirtatious smile fatherly and gentle. Apple nodded and walked to the table, where she saw so much food and had no idea where to begin.

She and her family were pretty well-off, but they couldn't even dream of affording things like this. Some of it was food that she only ever saw on TV, and some was food she'd never heard of before. She took a couple of things that looked good to her and took a seat again.

"I think the best strategy would be to mentor the two of you separately," Geno said, to which Argon nodded in agreement. "Unless you wanted to be together."

Apple considered it. They were both so unconventional, strong-built, older tributes. Together, they'd make an unbeatable team. But there also ran the risk of attachment, especially due to Apple's extroverted, friendly personality. There were many pros and cons, but Apple made a quick decision, as her mind was trained to do through her time playing fast-paced, action-filled sports.

"Alone is best. We can always decide to be together later."

"Alone," Marco agreed. He didn't seem to be a man of many words, that was for sure. Either that, or just extremely shy.

Geno nodded and stood up, beckoning to Marco. "I'll work with you then. Argon, you'll be okay with Apple?"

"Of course," Argon said, sounding confident in his tribute. Geno took Marco to another car, and Candy went to make sure things were in line, her professional air as strong as ever.

"So, Apple-" Argon started, but Apple cut him off, her eyes alight with determination and fire.

"I am worth your time and effort," she said, determined. "I won't let you down, Coach. I promise."

* * *

 **Tay Fairingdale, District Four Female, 18**

 _ **Wetstar**_

Tay was already loving this. She quickly went to the refreshments table and piled up her plate. Her District partner Soren seemed alright too. He was also trained and a fierce fighter, and Tay knew that if by some horribly ironic twist of fate she bit the dust, Soren had a good shot at taking the title. But, of course that wouldn't happen. Tay wouldn't have volunteered if she wasn't extremely confident that she could win. She loved her friends and family far too much to just volunteer recklessly and leave them behind. She wanted to make them proud, and she was confident she could. And Tay Faringdale was not a coward. She was going to fight hard to get what she wanted.

She sat down, eating happily. Soren seemed was sipping iced tea and looking quite content as well.

"Your District is so lovely," Cobra said, sighing contentedly. "And your mentors are kind as well. Or, at least, basically decent human beings. Much better than District 7." They said it like they had eaten something sour.

"Four is fucking awesome!" Tay said, still slightly giddy from the rush of volunteering

"Although nobody will ever be my first Victor," they said, causing Tay to pout, all in good temper of course, as Cobra launched into a discussion of their first Victor, District 7's Kendal Stowers. The 84th Games were never talked about and the reruns were never played on TV, but Tay remembered them because that was the first year she really payed attention to Four's tributes. Tay was determined to be strong and never throw her chance away by allying with a tribute from 12 of all places, or wandering off to piss in the dark. Kendal was a good Victor, though, from what Tay heard. She listened intently when Cobra talked, drinking in every words.

"He and Gravity- his husband is District One's mayor, of course- they've been training service dogs, of course, they're very good at what they do. Their house does reek like dog something nasty, though, both houses- you know they have one in Seven and one in One, of course- and-" they were cut off when the mentors entered.

"Good show," Finnick said, slow-clapping. "Good show."

Tay felt waves of pride, much like the waves of the ocean that she loved to watch back home and dunk Polar under. She felt a pang of homesickness, but quickly countered it with the thought that she'll be back there sooner than she thinks. She looked at time and realized it was about time for the reapings to replay.

Finnick spoke up. "So, if you two are both planning to join the Career alliance-"

"I'm actually planning to lead it," Tay said, raising her hand. Finnick's eyebrows raised and Tay beamed proudly.

"Anyways, you'll be working together while you're in the big group. So I think it's best that you watch the reapings together."

Nimue, the other mentor nodded silently. Because she had just won two years previous and was still a year younger than Tay, she was known for hanging back and letting Finnick, one of the most successful mentors in Panem, take the reins.

"I agree," Soren said, offering Tay a relaxed smile. She couldn't understand how he could possibly hold in the excitement. They had been training, preparing for this for so long. Tay just couldn't sit still!

She squealed a little bit as Cobra turned on the television and the faces of the Games Interviewer and Announcer appeared.

"Taking notes about all the other tributes is important, but be especially careful regarding the first couple of Districts," Finnick suggested. "They're not only your allies, they're also your competition."

Tay knew that, and grabbed a pencil and paper off of the table beside the couch as Blaine Buchanan and Simone Silver chattered. The screen soon changed to District One, in all its glory. Tay was always amazed when she watched reapings, at the sheer beauty of the place. She wanted to see it in person someday. She wanted to travel the world with Polar and her sisters and Moms, one of the many reasons for volunteering. Victors can go wherever the hell they want.

The girl volunteered, as was typical, and looked radiant. She looked kind of dainty for a Career, but Tay wasn't going to judge just based on her stature. Sometimes smaller tributes were the most lethal, after all. She also seemed determined and glad to be there. Hopefully she could deal with the Games in all their ferocity. Bliss Michalson.

Her District partner was also a volunteer. He was close to a foot taller than his District partner, towering over her, with ashy blond hair and blue eyes. He had the typical cocky smile on his face as he stepped up on the stage, and Tay knew that it was another typical year for District One. Not that it was a bad thing, just an observation. So far, the Career alliance was appearing as if it wouldn't suck. She might have to beat some of the arrogance out of some people to establish her spot as a leader, but Tay was always up for a challenge. Zircon Smith.

Next was District Two. Another lovely District to which Tay always wanted to travel. Someday, she wanted to climb the mountains with Polar and Rie. She imagined it was easy to build that rock-solid District Two strength with mountains like that. Just like District Four made lean, strong swimmers thanks to their beaches and oceans.

The first volunteer was a girl from the section from eighteen-year-olds. When her voice rang out among the crowd, nobody seemed surprised. Instead, the crowd sent evil-eyes to another girl in the same section. Tay wanted to get the dirt on who they were all looking at and why, but the cameras didn't focus on that, instead following the volunteer up to the stage. She had tan skin, black hair in a bun on top of her head, and was strongly built. Tay was not surprised that Two would produce such a powerhouse and knew that the boy would be the same. Amalissa Blackthorne Vesallius.

The boy also volunteers, stepping out on the stage proudly. He definitely looked like a powerhouse. He had pale skin, a barrel chest, and huge arms. His blue eyes were cold, though he looked proud of himself, and his blond hair was styled up out of his face. He assured his District that they would have a Victor in him and when the crowd went crazy, he cheered with them. Another typical Two boy. They were absolutely deadly, but probably not very intelligent. Tay knew she'd have to watch out for him either way, though. Ares Hardy.

"Well then," Soren said, kicking back from where he had been leaning forward, studying every detail of their future allies.

"Well then indeed," Tay said, flipping the page of her notebook. She had written so many notes for each tribute that she was sure she could fill an entire notebook.

District Three was a lot less pleasing than the two before it, but Tay still wanted to see it. The skies were smoggy and the crowd was practically dead as the tributes were reaped.

The girl wasn't the typical Three tribute at all. She had pale skin, blonde hair, and was tall and built well. She was definitely a threat to look out for, and Tay knew it. Apple walked to the stage, a steady pace (albeit a bit slow), and kept a smile on as she mounted the stairs. If she wasn't in a District that openly dreaded the Games, Tay could have actually believed she was glad to be reaped, and totally unafraid. Even so, desperation to get home and give Three another Victor would definitely be strong motivating forces, and Apple looked pretty capable and athletic, surprisingly. Tay wouldn't underestimate anyone. Apple Grey.

The boy was next. He was also reaped, and looked angry as he slowly mounted the stage. He was tall and strong-built, like his District partner, and had light brown skin and black hair. His eyes held fire, and Tay knew that even if he was mad to be reaped now, he would probably end up doing what he had to in order to get back home. If he played his cards right, he, like Apple, had a real chance at acquiring sponsors and earning his way back to Three. He had the potential to be a real fighter, and Tay made a note to brush up on hand-to-hand. Marco Maudslay.

The screen cut to commercial for a while, so Finnick turned to them. "What do you think?" he asked them.

"Nothing we can't conquer," Soren said, his voice a strange mixture of relaxed and determined.

"I'm not worried," Tay said confidently. She didn't come to the Capitol to be scared. She couldn't spend her big debut intimidated. She just had to keep up her smile and show her stuff.

Finnick just smiled and nodded approvingly. "Then I'm confident we'll have a Victor this year."

Tay felt the same way.

* * *

 **Devon Steele, District Six Male, 17**

 _ **rougeofminds**_

Despite the best efforts of the mentor, Noa, and the escort, Sayaka, the District Six train ride was awkward, to say the least. Noa was definitely a bit nervous, though she did her best to hide it. Devon couldn't say he blamed her though. It was their first year, after all. His district partner, Nerrah, seemed to have a fiery mind of her own. She seemed to respect Noa well enough, but had completely ignored Sayaka. Of course, Devon didn't give her the time of day either. She wasn't important enough to his survival for him to pay her any attention.

Currently, the group was gathered around the television screen, watching the recaps of the reapings. So far, they had seen Districts One, Two, and Three, but now a string of commercials advertising all kinds of superficial Capitolite products was airing. The awkward air of the room was as thick as smoke, and though Devon could try using humor to break it, he wasn't exactly in the mood.

Finally, the commercial break ended, and the faces of Blaine Buchanan and Simone Silver reappeared on screen. Devon rolled his eyes at the pair. Too bad they went more enthusiastic. Their smiles hadn't expanded off their faces yet, so clearly they weren't happy enough.

"Welcome back, folks!" Interviewer Blaine greeted. "I hope you're ready to meet some more tributes!"

"I know I am!" Simone, the announcer, responded. "Up next, we're headed to the land by the sea, District Four! Let's take a look."

Devon picked up his pen as the camera switched to the Justice Building of District Four. Noa had recommended he and Nerrah take notes on the competition, and Devon decided to take their advice. What harm could it do?

 _Well, perhaps I might get a hand cramp_ , Devon thought, smirking a bit to himself.

The District Four crowd was fairly large, and though it wasn't as loud as the crowds for One and Two, people will still milling with excitement. As the names were called, Devon didn't pay too much attention. He was fairly sure both the female and male tributes would be volunteers, and he wasn't proven wrong. The female volunteer emerged from the eighteen-year-old section, her brown hair tied back in a braid. Like Blaine and Simone, she was grinning from ear to ear.

Here excited voice was loud and clear as she introduced herself as Tay Fairingdale. Apparently, she could see the future and was proud to be District Four's next victor. Once again, Devon rolled his eyes and began to scribble down information on his notepad.

 _District Four female: Tay Fairingdale. 18, volunteer. Very excited to kill children. Yay. -_-_

The male volunteer was also eighteen. While he was calmer, he still smiled as he came to the stage.

 _District Four male: Soren Cantarell. 18, volunteer. Typical District Four look. Probably goes around calling everyone "dude"._

After District Four had the chance to celebrate their volunteers, the camera switched scenes to District Five. Like District Six, much of District Five was urbanized, with large power plants puffing out smoke as they generated energy. Despite the smoke, the district had fairly pleasant weather, with mostly blue skies.

When Iris Solaric's name was called, a tall, seventeen-year-old girl with light brown hair made her way to the stage. She looked terrified, as much as she attempted to hide her fear. The male tribute's name had to be repeated before he finally emerged from the section of sixteen-year-olds. He quivered with every step, and couldn't bring himself to speak when the escort attempted to make conversation.

 _District Five female: Iris Solaric. 17, reaped. Trying to be brave, but failing. Miserably. Why do most tributes try to be brave when they rarely succeed?_

 _District Five male: Avery Hayley. 16, reaped. Stunned into a zombie-like state. Surprising he didn't faint up there._

As the District Five tributes disappeared into their Justice Building, the camera switched to the familiar view of District Six.

"Oh look, you two are up next," Sayaka said, smiling sweetly. "Are you excited to see yourselves on camera for the first time?"

Once again, the young escort was greeted by silence. Her face fell, and a tiny sliver of a frown appeared on her face. To be honest, Devon felt a bit bad, but he'd never admit that aloud. Instead, he turned his attention back to the screen, where Nerrah was about to be reaped. Nerrah also approached the stage with courage, keeping her face stoic.

Then, Sayaka called Devon's name. Watching himself onscreen, Devon noted that he too, wore a calm expression. That was good. Strangely, when Devon was reaped, he wasn't as scared as he thought he would be, so keeping up his stoic expression wasn't hard. Even now, the fear hadn't quite sunk in. It was an odd feeling, to be honest.

On the screen, he and Nerrah shook hands, and then Blaine and Simone announced another commercial break. An ad for a cosmetic surgeon flashed onto the screen, and Devon looked away, disgusted by a man who for some reason had his face reconstructed to look like a scaly crocodile with beady eyes.

"Well, I am going to get something to satisfy my sweet tooth," Sayaka said. "Does anyone else want anything?"

Nerrah stared out the window, while Devon shook his head. Noa, however, gave Sayaka a kind smile. "No thank you, Sayaka."

"Alright. Suit yourselves. It's a while to dinner, though."

The escort made her way to the adjoining dining car, and Devon directed his gaze out the window. He had no idea where they were. He was fairly certainly they had left the borders of Six, but no one in Six was really sure what districts surrounded them. The land around them was fairly flat, but then again, so was much of Six, or at least the area Devon lived in was. The Capitol didn't exactly want district citizens to know the location of each district relative to one another, and had all records of Panem's geography taken away. All that was really known was the Capitol was close to the center of the nation, though farther west than many of the districts, and was closest to Districts One and Two.

"Where are we?" Devon asked his mentor, knowing they had been to every district on their victory tour.

Noa bit her lip. "I'm not sure. I think we're somewhere around Nine or Three. We're still a few hours away from the Capitol, and Three is our closest neighbor, so I would say District Three."

Devon nodded, falling silent again. They would arrive in the Capitol, and that was when the real drama would begin. He could _hardly_ wait.

 _ **Authors' Note: Hurrah, another update!**_ **Celtic here, still keeping up with the drawings, slowly but surely. Great, four more to add to the list. I'll get through them though, I promise. I say as spring semester prepares to kick my butt.** _Mine already is and I'm just starting week four, haha XD_ _ **We're going to do our very best to keep up with an update a month, though, because it's a comfortable speed for both of us. Thanks a bunch for the reviews and support you've given us even if this story is slower than some SYOTs. We hope that the quality of updates are worth the wait.**_

 _ **So, let us know what you think of these tributes and we'll see you in a month!**_


	11. Train Rides II

**Train Rides, part 2**

 **Pyra Leyland, District Seven Female, 13**

 _Rockafansky_

Pyra was just starting to cool down.

It had certainly been a whirlwind of a day. Usually when crazy emotional days like this happened, Pyra could go home and sleep in her comfy bed that night and know that she'd have to wait to figure it out until the next day. Now, though, it was just going to keep coming. It was going to continue, on and on, non-stop, without giving Pyra as much as a chance to breathe.

She was going to go into the Hunger Games.

Pyra took a deep breath to keep from crying some more. The time for tears and diddle-dallying was over. Now she had to put her game face on and start walking the road to Victory.

True, a thirteen-year-old had never won the Games before, but… There's a first for everything. Maybe Pyra would fit the bill. She was certainly in tune with her competitive side, and if she could collect herself… The possibilities were endless. Hadn't that been her mantra for so long? Why stop living by it now, of all times?

She fiddled with her hands. It had definitely been a day. That morning had brought the pleasure of victory. She and Sylvie were always competing, but that morning it had been red-hot intense. They used the forest as an obstacle course, running as fast as they could while dodging trees and each other. Sylvie was always stiff competition, but Pyra came out on top that time. After that, they had to see who could get dressed and ready the fastest. Pyra was in her dressed, zipped up, in her old flats and out the door in no time. She was waiting when Sylvie dashed over to where the van was waiting.

Yes, the Capitol was gracious enough to send a van driven by a Peacekeeper to bring some of those that lived further away to the reaping. As bitter as Pyra was about reapings, she liked the feeling of riding in the car. She was crammed in with her family, the Peters family, and all of the others that resided in Camp 73. It was packed and none of them could wear seatbelts, but it was much better than walking. Pyra was pushed against the door, Sylvie next to her, looking out the window as the trees and greenery flew past.

After that, the girls had some fun in District Seven's main Square, where they raced and played, making a game out of everything. It was the best way to distract Pyra from the dread of the reaping that was to come. She had the sweet taste of victory with her when she and Sylvie checked into the reaping.

Helena, the escort, was running her mouth, but it was all so useless. She was holding her cat, Ferdinand, on her lap and absolutely chattering her tributes' ears off. Rowan keeps smiling and nodding, and Pyra just flat-out ignores her, waiting for the commercials to be over and the replay of the reapings to continue.

Soon, she was reliving that afternoon. The District Seven main Square was full of people, shown on the screen with Blaine and Simone chattering in the background. Pyra knew that somewhere, in that huge group, is her, oblivious to her fate, and Rowan, oblivious to his. She watched Helena try to engage the District before she picked the first name. Pyra watched as she walked to the stage.

She was tall for her age, but she didn't look any less weak. It was probably because of how her face contorted as she was trying not to cry. She hadn't done very well at hiding her fear, nor had she done a good job being discreet about her hope that Alycia would volunteer for her. It looked pretty pitiful. Hopefully Pyra could bounce back. She felt her face contort in a scowl as she watched her pathetic self drag her ass to the stage. It felt like it had happened years before, but in reality it had only been a couple hours.

Rowan was reaped after. His was at least a little bit better. He kept his shock to a minimum, and didn't look particularly upset or afraid. Pyra could barely watch herself break down. Crying was not a good look for anyone, especially not her.

After the reaping, she'd been so upset and angry. She was mad at Alycia for not volunteering. Sure, now the rational side could understand why she didn't, she was safe from reapings forever now and would go on with her life. But Pyra couldn't help feeling at least a little bit angry about it. However, she did regret throwing away the bracelet Alycia gave her as a token. That was probably happening just as the poor saps from District Eight were being reaped.

The girl, Dinah, was reaped first. Another girl, maybe a friend, was screaming and trying to volunteer as Dinah sternly told them all that nobody was volunteering before she walked to the stage, crying. Peacekeepers grabbed the wannabe volunteer, covering her mouth, as Dinah took the stage. The boy, Maverick, was clearly angry when his name was picked, stomping up to the stage and scowling. He still seemed tense as he shook Dinah's hand, but relaxed when he let go, as if coming to terms with his fate.

Pyra's mind wandered as District Nine started playing. She had so many thoughts flying around in her head, all of them relating to the Games and the inevitable fight for survival she would eventually be thrown into. Among the angry, miserable thoughts were guilty apologies for reacting so badly to it all. She was only thirteen, she couldn't say she had everything figured out. She had to be mature, but it was hard when she'd never learned how. However, she took a deep breath and focused on strategy. She had a long list of questions to ask Johanna.

Pyra pushed the sadness, fear, and anger aside. They weren't needed here. Instead, she focused on feeling the emotion she's so used to, the feeling she lived and feasted off of.

Pyra Leyland was determined.

Not only would she win the Games, but she'd be the first thirteen-year-old in history to do it.

* * *

 **Milo Redtail, District Nine Male, 16**

 _Littlefoot-is-Futureproof_

Milo was trying his best to keep his chin up. Being reaped and pulled away from everything he ever known made doing so difficult, however. It wasn't much, and sometimes he wished he had more, though he tried to remind himself to be thankful for what he had. He had both his parents in his life, and while he rarely saw them, at least their work kept food on the table most nights. Sometimes, to save money, a few meals had to be skipped now and again, but the Redtails never experienced full-on starvation. Milo's little brother, Kade, could grow up happy. Milo spent a lot of time with the six-year-old, and he could imagine how confused the little boy must be right now. He understood the Hunger Games were something to be afraid of, though he didn't exactly know why. Like Milo, Kade was a sunny little boy, but he would no doubt miss his big brother, the one person who was constantly there to play with him and to tuck him in at night.

Although the idea of going into the Games terrified him, at least things could be worse. Yeah, maybe it was cliche to think so. How could being thrown into a competition for his life be any worse? For one thing, he could find himself in terrible company, but honestly, he really didn't. Cerena, the escort who was three years older than himself, was surprisingly quiet for an escort. Most escorts were loud and flamboyant, but not Cerena. It wasn't as though she was aloof and tense, but rather treated Milo, Mar, and their mentor, Vale, in a polite matter, in the way one might treat a business partner.

Vale Dimitrov was more of a silent type as well. The victor of the Eighty-Ninth Games was now twenty-five-years-old, and had been the only victor to win in Milo's lifetime. In fact, his only mentor had died maybe a year or two after Vale's victory, and he never was able to bring home a tribute since. As a result, though he seemed willing to help Milo and Mar survive, he also appeared to be incredibly nervous, as though the slightest mistake could doom Milo and Mar for good. Milo believed in him, though. Vale cared, and that was the first step, after all.

Mar, on the other hand, was a friendly, extroverted person. They were kind enough to Milo, and seemed willing to talk to him, which Milo appreciated. He enjoyed meeting new people, and even if it wasn't in the best of circumstances, Mar was no exception. Milo had enjoyed listening to Mar because they were genderfluid, something Milo had never heard of before. He was still a little confused about Mar's gender identity, but he was willing to learn. According to Mar, they felt comfortable with the pronouns she, he, and they, though mostly used they. Milo knew he would do his best to use Mar's preferred pronouns, because even though he didn't fully understand, respect was important. That much he knew.

The four of them had gathered around the hologram screen, watching the the recaps. When the broadcast came back on, Milo was greeted with the familiar sight of District Nine. Milo had been reaped first. He didn't look too impressive. He was thin and pale, after all, and had shuffled slowly to the stage, tears spilling over his eyes. He looked weak, like he could become an easy target. Sinking back into the couch, Milo frowned slightly. Maybe he could still prove to the Capitolites that he had a shot. Hopefully.

"I can come back from that, right?" Milo asked Vale. "I don't think the Capitolites show rule me out just because I showed a moment of weakness. I think I see have a chance. I mean, how else am I supposed to react to a reaping? It's normal, isn't it?"

Vale looked startled that Milo was talking to him. "Oh, um… yeah, I guess so. It wasn't a good start but… maybe. I guess it depends on what you do from now on."

Milo nodded, his frown sliding off his face. He could still do this. It wasn't too late. He could still blow it, of course, but he would try his best to make sure that didn't happen. On screen, Mar's name was called, and they emerged from the crowd. They looked much braver than Milo had.

"Good job," Milo told her. "You look brave."

They gave him a small smile. "Thanks. I didn't feel brave."

The camera switched to District Ten, and Milo sat up straight, wanting to pay full attention. The girl, Katarina Hubert, was very pale, but her face showed anger as tears threatened to spill. She shook as she stood on stage, but still looked intimidating just the same, just as tributes from Ten usually were. Meanwhile, Everett Dryer, the boy, looked clumsy and dazed as he stumbled to the stage, though perhaps he just had a moment much like Milo had. Milo wasn't going to write off anyone yet. It wasn't fair.

In District Eleven, Alisha Morwelder turned out to be a petite, twelve-year-old girl with purple glasses. As expected, she had tears in her eyes, but she looked like she was trying to be brave. Maybe she wasn't automatically doomed just because of her age. Milo hoped not. Being reaped was terrible for anyone, but it was even worse for twelve-year-olds. This girl didn't seem to have given up too quickly though, so maybe she had hope.

Alisha's district partner was a boy Milo's age. Thoreau looked shockingly calm, and Milo was amazed at how well he held it together. He certainly seemed like he would be able to keep his head in the arena, which was likely to work in his favor.

Finally, District Eleven faded into District Twelve. The girl, Brooklyn Bay, was young again, stepping out of the section designated for the fourteen-year-olds. Her brown eyes were wide as saucers, and she looked to be well-fed, a fact that contrasted from most tributes from Twelve.

Brooklyn's district partner, Russet Hem, was even more surprising. At first, like other tributes before him, Russet looked like he wanted to cry. Then, strangely enough, he cracked a smile, before breaking out into full-on laughter. It was an odd sight, and Milo wasn't sure what to make of it. Did the seventeen-year-old know what was happening, or was he just trying to cheer himself up? If it was the latter, Milo couldn't blame him. He himself often used his sense of humor to lift his spirits.

"Well, that's it," said Cerena, turning off the hologram. "We'll be in the Capitol in about twenty minutes. Are you both ready?

Milo nodded. He had one chance to make a good second impression, and he was fairly confident he wouldn't mess it up. Besides, even if he did, he could always try again.

* * *

 **Thoreau "Thor" Abdulrashid, District Eleven Male, 16**

 _Zephyrme_

Ali hadn't really said anything since getting on the train, Thoreau noticed. It was just very tense, with their escort Essylt being grouchy and Skeeter being grouchier. Thoreau just leaned back and watched them all squabble like wild turkeys.

It seemed that nobody in the compartment was in a very good mood: from Essylt, who was going on about how she heard that one of the escorts was going to retire and would work her way up to be promoted until she reached the "big time:" AKA, the Career Districts. Every time she mentioned the Career Districts, Skeeter bristled and swore under his breath, which upped the tension. Every time Skeeter swore, Thorne jumped a bit and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to smile. The mentor looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't until it was just on the brink of going too far with the mention of Cato Bailor, which caused Skeeter to ball his fists and growl.

"So, um, how about that weather?" Thorne quickly interjected, slightly breathlessly, as if he himself was surprised he actually spoke. "Not really fitting, huh? I-I like it when the sun shines through the window, though, it's warm and the air conditioning gets kind of cold sometimes-"

"Shut up!" Essylt said, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, don't talk to him like that!" Skeeter said, standing up. If his Games proved anything, Skeeter Hofstadter was hard to move, but if you picked a fight, he was ruthless.

"It's alright Skeeter!" Thorne squeaked, grabbing his fellow mentor by the arm. "It's fine. Let it go."

The conversation continued, but Thor decided he was tired of listening and instead decided that there were many things that were more worthy of his time than this. After all, he was about to go into the Games, and unlike these other simpletons, Thor was going to make a plan. He knew that they weren't going to be of much help unless they put the whole feelings thing away into their back pockets and got down to business. Oh, how Thor wished they would. If only things could actually be easy and logical for just once in this godforsaken human race.

He took another look over his list on the tributes that had been reaped so far. He wished the commercials would just stop so that rewatching the reapings could continue, but alas. Yet another thing humankind was wasting their time doing. Making and producing these things, for what reason?

Would anyone in the Districts actually be able to afford those fancy Capitol dresses and perfumes and nail polish and face cream? Who even cared if it was the only product Blaine Buchanan trusted enough to apply to his sensitive skin? Advertising was so mindless. But, Thor supposed that it was effective because the morons they were aimed at were just as mindless. Still, though, they were a horrible time-killer. Thoreau would have rather watched the reapings for every Hunger Games ever than hear one more of Thorne's lame, awkward, and, quite frankly, misplaced attempts to lighten the mood.

"At least _Cato_ wouldn't-"

"You shut your damn mouth right now I swear to God I will kill-"

"Why do people say sweet tooth in reference to someone who likes sweets, right?" Thorne asked, restraining Skeeter. As soon as the younger Victor let go, Skeeter stood to get some alcohol.

 _Great. Some quality liver disease there. Not to mention some Grade A incompetence. Make that A_ Plus _Incompetence. It'd probably be the only A Plus he's ever gotten in his life._ It was just a fact, Thoreau figured.

"I mean, wouldn't it make more sense to say Sweet Taste Buds or something? Teeth don't actually taste anything-"

"This is exactly why I need to be promoted!" Essylt said, crossing her arms across her chest. Was she… Pouting? She was actually pouting, pouty face and all. A grown woman, pouting like a child. It was so funny to Thoreau that he couldn't help but smile a little bit.

Hassan hadn't been blessed enough to have this ever-so-lovely and delightful lady as his escort. No, when he'd been on his way to the Capitol six years ago, Essylt hadn't gotten the gig yet. Hassan, Thor's older brother, had been in this very train, maybe this very car. Perhaps the same Avox woman was standing in the corner of the room as Skeeter and Thorne were talking strategy with Hassan and his District partner, as they were sent to the Capitol to be fattened and slaughtered like pigs.

Thor quickly changed the subject. He had to keep his head in the Game, he couldn't be bothered with sadness thinking about his brother. He would just have to do what Hassan couldn't and win.

Thor flipped through the pages of color-coded notes he had taken. True, the information was already in his brain and taking notes on paper almost felt like an insult to his clear intelligence, but having an organized record of the tributes seemed logical, and Thor was usually one to listen to logic. Ali also had an organized list, though hers was differently color-coded than his and made into a chart, rather than a bio list like Thor's. He supposed everyone's minds worked differently.

Even if his District partner was young, Thor saw a lot of himself in her. She wasn't very social, and neither was he. She seemed to be prone to fading into her own thoughts, into her mind, which he could relate to. And, even though she was young and her chances looked slim, she stayed calm and collected. And organized, of course. Thor could respect her because of that. At least there was someone in that train car that had a brain besides him.

"Why did you make a chart?" he had to ask. He didn't understand it, as a bio allowed more information to be added on later and was overall a more flexible choice than a chart, which had boxes that were only so big. He supposed the fallacy in Ali's methods was that she wasn't planning enough for the future."

"Huh?" Ali squeaked, surprised to be talked to. "Oh, uh, I don't know. I just started drawing lines and it came together…" she spoke quietly, obviously uncomfortable talking with someone she didn't know at all in a situation like this. Oh, the delicacy of the young teen female.

"It would have been more helpful to set it up like I did," Thor said. "See? I even left a spot open for their training scores and any angles they seem to be taking."

"Oh, yeah, I see. Cool." She smiled at him slightly.

"And, we're back!" The train car finally went silent as the replay of the reapings continued.

 _Finally_ , Thor thought, sighing. _Back to having peace and quiet._

* * *

 **Brooklyn Bay, District Twelve Female, 14**

 _david12341_

Brooklyn felt like they would never reach the Capitol. She never knew District Twelve was so far away, though it made sense, being the last district and all. Eventually, the recaps had wrapped up, and Effie shut off the hologram.

"Alright," said the escort, offering Brooklyn and Russ a gentle smile. "We don't have too long now. We'll be in the Capitol before you know it. What would you like to do? We could talk about what strategy you would like to use, or I could tell you a bit about the Capitol. Of course, you could also rest for a while if you'd prefer. We're going to be constantly busy once we arrive."

Brooklyn felt she should be somewhat scared of Effie. This was the woman who reaped her name, and in a sense, represented the Games. Still, Effie was hard not to like. The woman, who was now somewhere in her fifties if Brooklyn remembered correctly, had been escorting in District Twelve for probably close to thirty years or so, according to Brooklyn's parents, who could remember her from _their_ reapings when they were teenagers. For the past decade, Effie had been both the escort and the mentor, after District Twelve's only mentor, Haymitch Abernathy died of liver failure. Rumor had it that Effie had been offered promotions to more successful districts several times, yet she had stayed in District Twelve. Brooklyn wasn't sure why; maybe she would ask her about it later.

"Hm, I don't know," said Russ, bouncing his foot up and down restlessly. "What do you suggest?"

"I would like to try to get to know you both, if that's alright. Oh, and would you mind being mentored together? It would make things a great deal easier."

"I don't mind," Brooklyn said with a smile, wanting to help the kind escort in anyway she could. Russ also shook his head.

"Excellent! Let's relocate to the dining car, shall we?"

Brooklyn and Russ followed her into the next car and sat at the table that already had several platters of food set out. Even though she was from the Merchant section of District Twelve, Brooklyn had never seen so much food at once.

"Feel free to help yourselves," said Effie. Brooklyn did so, taking small helpings of several dishes.

Russ's eyes were round as he took in all the food. In his eagerness to eat, he moved too quickly, his elbow accidentally bumping into the water glass that had been set out for him, knocking it over.

"Careful, dear. That is mahogany," Effie said as an avox hurried over with a cloth napkin to soak up the spilled water.

"Sorry," Russ said, giving a sheepish smile.

The three of them continued to eat, enjoying their food for a moment or two before Effie restarted conversation. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourselves. Let's start with you, Brooklyn. What is your life like back home in District Twelve?"

"I'm an only child," Brooklyn said, figuring her family was the best place to begin, "so it's just my mom, dad, and me. Dad owns a shop in town."

"How lovely," Effie replied. "Are you close?"

Brooklyn nodded. "We are, but I don't see them much because they are so busy working and providing for me. I love them both a lot, though."

Brooklyn remembered being much closer to her mother when she was little, and she missed that. Now, when they were together, Brooklyn's mother put a lot of pressure on her to do well in school and to start to grow up. Mrs. Bay was the daughter of assistants to the Mayor, and had a similar job herself. Being apart of one of the best-paid families in the district, Brooklyn never had to worry about getting enough to eat like her best friend, Danny, had. That also meant that Mrs. Bay worked hard to keep her daughter out of poverty. Her greatest dream was for Brooklyn to be mayor someday, but Brooklyn didn't want to worry about that yet. She was just fourteen, and adulthood seemed so far away. She wanted to enjoy being young while it lasted. At the same time, she realized responsibility was important as well, and but her studies and helping in her dad's shop came before having fun. Of course, now that she was reaped, she had no shot at being mayor now, or having any other job. If she won, she wouldn't have to worry about having a job, though maybe she could do some volunteer work in the orphanages or something similar. Sure, the chances for tying Finnick Odair's record for being the youngest victor were very low, but that didn't mean Brooklyn was going to give up.

"What do you do for fun?" asked Effie.

"I like to explore the District with my friend Danny."

Effie nodded. "Do you have any skills from that that could help you in the arena?"

Brooklyn gave a small shrug. "I like to climb trees! I'm also in good shape. I kind of know some things about plants, too."

"That's a good start. We can discuss what you want to work on at training later. What about you Russ? What is home like for you?"

As Russ talked about his grandmother, he suddenly became visibly sadder, as if recalling some unpleasant memories. He clearly loved his grandmother, but his voice also held a sense of loss in it. Brooklyn frowned, wishing there was some way she could cheer her district partner up to his previous state. Instead, she stayed quiet, allowing Russ to converse with Effie, and found herself wandering to the train car window. She suspected they were close now, as mountains were now visible, and communities were beginning to look more wealthy, even more so than the Mayor's house back home. They were probably in District One, or maybe Two, by now, which meant it wouldn't be long before they arrived.

Sure enough, after about a half an hour, Effie addressed both Russ and Brooklyn. "Alright, we are approaching the Capitol now! You might want to have a peek out the window."

Brooklyn nodded, staring at the marvelous spires and towers ahead. Russ joined her, also gaping. The Capitol was amazingly beautiful, even more so than Effie had described when Brooklyn had asked her about it earlier in their journey. Brooklyn couldn't help but feel a little bit excited, despite the situation, and wondered what Danny would be thinking if he were here. Like Brooklyn, he probably would be as stunned at its size as she was, but probably wouldn't have faced it as enthusiastically, not sharing her optimistic outlook on things.

The train zoomed over a bridge of clear blue water and into the city. Everything was so colorful and glistening that she couldn't look away. Outside, hundreds of Capitolites passed by on the streets, some pointing excitedly at the train and waving. Brooklyn waved back instinctively, even though she knew they were moving too fast at this point for anyone to get a good glimpse of her. Gradually, the train began to slow, preparing to stop at the Tribute Center's station.

"Russ, Brooklyn," Effie said, smiling at the pair, "welcome to the Capitol."

* * *

 _ **Authors' note:**_ _And here's the second part of train rides! Next up, we'll have the parade!_ **As always, reviews letting us know what you thought of the tributes are much appreciated! Hope you enjoyed!**


	12. Tribute Parade

**Tribute Parade**

 **Dinah Cambric, District 8 female, 15**

 _Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg_

The chatty Capitolite stylists surrounding Dinah were so overwhelming to her. They swarmed around her like flies, making Dinah want to grab a blanket and hide underneath it. The chattering wouldn't be too bad, as her prep team mostly ignored her and conversed amongst themselves, but the way they manipulated her body was extremely painful, so much so that she couldn't help but whimper. One woman was yanking a comb through her long, knotted auburn hair, while another ripped the hair off her legs. Dinah was not ugly by any means, but by the way the stylists treated her, one would have thought she was a ratty rag doll. Dinah wanted out of there as soon as possible, but unfortunately, ragdolls couldn't run.

Eleanore wouldn't have put up with any of this. Even though she was Dinah's twin, the pair couldn't be more different. The sassy, rebellious Eleanore had wanted to volunteer for her, but Dinah had refused. She wouldn't wish this fate on anyone, especially not her twin sister. Maybe if Eleanore were here, though, she'd have more of a chance than Dinah did, but Dinah wasn't about to take that chance. They were only fifteen, after all, and while fifteen-year-olds occasionally won, it was rare. There were just so many tributes that looked so much more capable than her, such as the careers, the hulking boy from Three and the stoic girl from Six, just to name a few. Dinah herself was tall, but she was scrawny and not at all strong. Thinking of the stronger teens made Dinah want to hide in the train and not emerge until it pulled into the station in District Eight.

"Such callused fingers," one of the prep team members tutted, rubbing a soothing lotion that smelled like the lavender bushes that were planted outside the houses of Eight's more wealthy families. Dinah wasn't sure what the woman expected, since her nimble fingers had lead her to a sewing job in a factory, and overuse of her hands had caused them to develop a dry, rough texture along her knuckles and joints. It wasn't as though she could afford whatever procedure that had made the woman's skin as smooth as a newborn baby's.

Once her hair was untangled, one prep team member straightened it, and Dinah couldn't help but find the feeling of warm hair falling against her neck pleasant. It was much better than being yanked like it had been, that was for certain. Meanwhile, a second prep team member applied make-up to her soft brown eyes, while the one who had commented on her calluses filed her nails.

"Stay here. We'll get Antebellum."

The prep team left, and Dinah sat in silence. She shivered, partly out of cold due to not having anything on but underwear, and partly out of fear. She hoped her stylist would be a woman, as she was already uncomfortable being naked around strangers, let alone a man. When the door opened, Dinah was relieved to see that the stylist, assumably named Antebellum, was indeed female. Her comfort soon disappeared, however, when the stylist glared at her.

"Hurry up, girl! I don't have all day! Get over here!"

Despite her gut screaming at her to flee, Dinah scurried over, not wanting to anger the Capitolite. Antebellum reached into her bag and flung a fuzzy white outfit at her. Dinah was too stunned to catch it, and instead, it feel to the ground near her feet. Dinah stared at it for a moment before slowly picking it up. It was soft and padded, just like cotton. In fact, Dinah was sure that is what it was meant to be. As she slide on the fluffy costume over a pair of white pants and tank top she had also been given, she realized that was all her costume consisted of. She was dressed as a cotton ball.

It could be worse, Dinah supposed. At least most of her body was covered, and only her face, arms, and hands showed flesh. She would have been completely mortified if she was forced to wear anything remotely revealing. As it was, she really did not want to be paraded around in front of thousands of people who would be betting on her life in a week.

"There, you are done," said Antebellum. "Now shoo!"

The Stylist pushed her out the door, and Dinah was greeted by bright lights and the rumbling of the excited sea of Capitolites in the stands. Dinah didn't have time to take in the scene though, as Antebellum was right behind her nudging her forward. She approached her chariot and stood to the side of it, marveling at the size and strength of the mighty black horses that were attached to it.

"They sure are something, aren't they," a voice said behind her, and Dinah jumped. It was only Maverick, her district partner. He was wearing a costume of green felt, complete with a pointy hat, and looked quite cross about it, too. The boy may have been a year younger than her and a few inches shorter, but his tough personality made Dinah feel nervous around him. Plus, he was a criminal, and although Dinah didn't know what he had done, she still felt intimidated by him. He didn't talk much more than she did, and that was fine by her. Dinah nodded in response to Maverick's comment, an answer he was satisfied with.

While some of the other tributes milled around socializing, both Dinah and Maverick stayed by their chariot. If Eleanore or Lil, Dinah's friend from work, were with her, they probably would be interacting with the other tributes, and Dinah would be glued to their sides. Since she was on her own, though, Dinah was too shy to attempt to start a conversation. If someone wanted to talk to her, she would definitely make an effort to seem interested, but she wasn't one to initiate. As a result, she and Maverick stood alone, and Dinah had even begun to daydream when the voice of Maverick's stylist cut into her thoughts.

"Time to board the chariots! Are you excited?!"

"Very," Maverick muttered, but Dinah didn't speak as she climbed onto the chariot. Her heartbeat quickened, and she felt her palms grow sweaty as the District One chariot began to roll forward at the beginning of the line. Eyes wide, Dinah backed up as far as she could go without falling off the back of the chariot. She wished she could be absorbed the fluffy white cotton ball that was her costume. Even though she was surrounded by an overwhelming amount of people, never before had Dinah ever felt so alone, and not in a good way.

The chariot began to move, and Dinah knew there was no going back.

* * *

 **Everett Dyer, District 10 male, 17**

 _The United Districts of Panem_

Everett looked ridiculous, and he knew it. Both he and his district partner were dressed as pink pigs, complete with floppy, triangular ears, curly tails, and round snouts that covered their noses. He was holding onto a pile of twigs that he couldn't put down for fear of being scolded by his stylist if he did, while Katarina held a bundle of hay. It would have been a cute outfit, if he and Katarina were twelve. The problem was that they weren't twelve; He was seventeen, and Katarina sixteen and as a result they should have been able to be seen as competitors.

Everett doubted that anyone would take them seriously in these costumes. The tribute parade was a vital time to attract sponsors, or so his mentor Arlo said, which made Everett dread this event even more. The costumes were more likely to make the audience say "awww" than "wow!" and if they didn't wow the audience, how could they make an impact? If he and Katarina didn't make an impact from the get-go, they'd have to work harder for sponsors later on, and Everett wasn't sure he could do that. He was counting on sponsors, as he wasn't sure he could make it out of the Games on his own.

"It's kind of ironic isn't it?" Katarina asked, trying to make conversation.

"What is?" Everett asked awkwardly, not really wanting to talk, but also not wanting to be rude.

"The costumes. In ten we slaughter animals, and now we're dressed as those animals, with the Capitol doing the slaughtering."

Everett shivered. He hadn't thought about it like that, but now the image was morbid, and he wanted unthink it.

"Then again, the Capitol is probably too stupid to make the connection, and probably just wanted to dress us up as cute farm animals," Katarina said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah," Everett replied weakly, and the pair fell silent.

Eventually, more and more people started emerging from the Tribute Building and stood by their chariots, while some mingled with others. Everett and Katarina stood by their chariot, not saying much. Behind them, the little twelve-year-old from Eleven was staring at everything wide-eyed, while her district partner stared stoically straight ahead. In front of them, Amaranth from Nine was likely talking another tribute, while their district partner, Milo, had just emerged from the Tribute Building. Glancing around, Milo spotted them, his eyes lighting up when he noticed them standing alone. He jogged over to them, and Everett attempted to give him a half-hearted smile.

"I'm Milo," said the District Nine boy, grinning, "and I'm a silo. Milo the Silo."

So that's what he was. Milo was dressed in a red, cylindrical costume, and when Everett thought about it, it made sense that a boy from the grain district would be dressed in a building used to store… well, grain.

Katarina waved at him. "I'm Katarina. Good to meet you, Milo."

Milo looked at Everett expectantly, and the boy from Ten realized he should introduce himself. "Everett."

"So where's your third pig? The one with the bricks?"

"At the market," Katarina said dryly, causing Milo to laugh.

"I'm trying to meet as many people as possible. You?"

Katarina shrugged. "I guess. I'm mostly waiting for training, though.."

MIlo nodded. "Sounds like a good plan. Are you thinking of having allies?"

"Probably," said Katarina, while Everett shrugged. In reality, there was no way he wanted to have allies. He didn't trust these twenty-three strangers enough. In fact, he was sure he wouldn't be able to get to know Katarina well enough to be comfortable enough around her. He felt awkward telling Milo no, though, so he refrained.

Instead, Everett listened as Milo and Katarina chatted. Part of him was jealous at the other boy's ability to talk and make friends so easily. Back home, the only human friends Everett had, Helena and Sawyer, were the only people outside his family he had ever opened up to. With them, he was almost like a different person, making jokes and having a lot more positivity. Without them, Everett felt lost. He missed both of his friends dearly, but was relieved they were safe in Ten, at least for one more year, their last reaping.

"Well, I want to talk to a few more people before the parade starts," Milo finally said. "Good luck, you two."

"You too," said Katarina, and Everett nodded.

After that, the pair from Ten were left alone. Katarina attempted to make conversation every once in awhile, but other than that, not many words passed between them. Eventually, the two stylists hurried over to them.

"Time to get on the chariots," Katarina's bird-like stylist chirped. "Watch your step! Don't get your tails caught!"

Everett let Katarina go first, then boarded the chariot after her. Since they were near the back of the line, it was awhile before they got moving, but eventually, their horses began trotting forward. Katarina gave a friendly smile and waved to the crowd, trying her best to get their attention. Everett waved too, but stared straight ahead, afraid his nerves would overwhelming him. He wanted to look around and admire the Capitol's buildings, as it truly was a beautiful city, but he just couldn't bring himself to do so. Finally, the chariots rolled around the city circle a few times before coming to a stop in front of the Presidential Mansion.

The president's balcony was several yards off the ground, but Everett could still see the intimidating man well from his place in the chariot. President Rutilus held his head high in confidence, as though no one could not knock him from his throne. Head Gamemaker Celestia Snow stood beside him, poised and ladylike, but likely deadly. Raising his wine glass, President Rutilus turned to the crowd, a charismatic smile on his face.

"Welcome tributes. On behalf of all of the Capitol, I welcome you here, to our home, for the Ninety-Sixth annual Hunger Games! We thank you for your sacrifice and courage as you prepare for the coming days of preparation to represent your home in this honorable event. One of you will emerge victorious with the crown, winning your District food and your name glory and honor. May your eyes, ears, and heart be open as you introduce yourselves to the nation and prepare to fight for yourself and your District. And, of course, may the odds be _ever_ in your favor."

Everett shivered during the president's speech. As he spoke, President Rutilus's metallic-colored eyes settled on every single tribute for a second or two, as if they were tiny organisms in a science lab. Everett was sure the president was trying to see right through him and read his thoughts. To be honest, he was relieved when his chariot started moving again, back to the Tribute Building.

"We don't have to socialize with the others when we stop, do we?" Everett asked. All he wanted to do at the moment was crawl into bed and pretend this never happened. He'd probably be too worried about the events to come to sleep, but at least he'd be alone from all the action for a while.

"I guess it's up to Arlo and Abi, but I wouldn't say so," Katarina said. "We'll have plenty of time at training."

Everett nodded. He knew tonight was going to be a long night, so he might as well enjoy his time alone while he still had it. Hopefully he could clear his thoughts before morning and get ahold of himself. If not, Everett knew he was royally screwed.

* * *

 **Joltee Rutilus, President of Panem**

Panem's president sat still as Valeska, one of his many stylists, puts finishing touches on his outfit and make-up for the official kick-off to the Ninety-Sixth annual Hunger Games. The President was pleased that all twelve reapings had gone smoothly, as that was not always the case, and that this year had many candidates for the coveted title of Victor.

Joltee was excited to see the tributes' big debut. The design pitches he'd seen were all interesting, and bound to make a good show.

Joltee knew that, when asked what the best part of the Games was, the chariot parade would not be the most popular answer, but they were still critical for a first glance of the tributes after they've gotten their bearings together. Even if the parade was short and the tributes barely looked like themselves, it was still critical.

He sat still as he put on his earpiece, through which he would get the cue to begin his speech and hear if any funny business happened. In front of him was a holoscreen projecting live footage of Main Street lining up with people of all colors, sizes, and ages. The chariots were free,and drew quite a crowd. Of course, for a small additional fee, one could purchase bleacher seats in the V.I.P. area. The amount people would pay to sit behind some velvet red rope. And, of course, all of the higher-ups and those of humongous wealth that could afford apartments with balconies overlooking the street, had box seats to the event.

Blaine and Simone were chattering excitedly from their box in anticipation for the event, but a lot of their words were just filler and barely mattered. They bounced back and forth about each of the tributes, reminding the people that were simple enough to forget about what happened during each reaping. All that really mattered was their bubbly, giddy faces and enthusiasm. That was all it took to hype up the crowd and any other Capitolites that were watching on TV.

"Test test one two three!" Joltee heard the cheerful voice of one of the Gamemakers buzzing in his ear. "Can you hear me Mr. President sir?"

"Who the hell gave this duty to _Ramirus_?" groaned Joltee. Everyone knew how much Ramirus liked to talk, usually just to hear himself talk. It was so annoying.

"Wait, I can't hear you, there's no microphone on this!" the man chortled, "Oh, silly me, how could I forget? Hopefully you can hear me fine though. Testing, testing, one two three! This is Ramirus on reporting duty! Testing, test-a-rooning, testicular cancer, testing testing testing! Spelling test! Pregnancy test! What else starts with test…? Hm... "

"Please kill me," Joltee said to one of the Avoxes in the room, a young woman with curly brown hair, freckles, and innocent brown eyes. The girl had no idea how to react to the dull-sounding joke and instead shrunk back uncomfortably, just as Ramirus was singing, " _Testicles!_ " into the President's ear. "Fine, at least remind me to shove that microphone up Ramirus's ass." The girl nodded quickly, taking the command seriously, which caused Joltee to laugh. She was the epitome of fear, rolled into one mousy girl that is so scared she couldn't even joke anymore. _Serves her right_ , Joltee thought.

"I know! Testosterone!" said Ramirus, laughing so loudly Joltee wanted to throw the earpiece across the room.

"Tell him to shut up immediately," Joltee said, sending the order back to HQ. Soon, the annoying voice silenced with an apology, and Joltee was escorted to the Presidential Platform, where he would oversee the event.

"Three, two, one… Alright, Mr. President, please proceed to the Platform." It was certainly nice to see Ramirus doing his job, finally, but Joltee couldn't think of what imbeciles were working for him when he had to once again charm his people. All it took was a pretty face and some carefully-picked words to rule over these dummies. All they cared about was that their hands and bellies were full, which was easily accommodated.

The Districts were harder to keep quiet and calm. Some of the people on Joltee's council were positive that the Games would not survive the death of President Snow and the system would be destroyed, especially when the Head Gamemakers of the Eighty-Fourth Games proved to be impulsive, no-good, selfish rats. After Diesel Bundren collapsed and unloaded every gimmick they'd made, the tributes were left hollow shells with no motivation. To make matters worse, Diesel's co-Head Gamemaker, Santana Villanueva took her own life the next day. Joltee had to take the reigns and threaten the tributes' loved ones to make them end the Games quickly. It was a disaster that was not to be talked about. But, because of Joltee's iron fist, things stayed the same, any outbursts were extinguished, and the Games continued.

He put on his best presidential smile as he smoothly glided out to the balcony, where the summer breeze was just right and the crowd was cheering and applauding as loudly as they possibly could. Joltee just took a deep breath, putting a humble smile and waving to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you," he said, smiling calmly. "And, may I introduce our Head Gamemistress, Celestia Snow!" The aforementioned woman walked out and sat next to Joltee, a calm smile on her face. "And now, without further ado, the parade!" Joltee took a seat, taking a glass of wine from the Avox girl who he'd teased earlier. The doors opened and the chariots started on their ways down the streets.

District One's outfits were beautiful, as always. They were matching, both of them adorned like royalty with royal purple, velvet capes and crowns. Bliss was wearing an olden days dress with long, layered sleeves, a corset, and a flowing skirt. She smiled gracefully and waved to the crowd, even gesturing the the rest of the tributes behind her and making a face of disgust, which caused the crowd to laugh. Zircon wore an old-timey shirt with puffy sleeves and ruffles. He gave the crowd a determined grin, looking both excited and strong.

Soon, the pretty tributes were forgotten about in favor of the District Two tributes. Their outfits were also matching, the typical golden gladiator armor. Ares had a helmet with a plume of red feathers coming from it, along with minimal armor that showed his bare muscles and a pair of gladiator sandals on his feet. He flexed his muscles and did whatever he could to make sure all eyes were on him. Joltee almost forgot that he had a District partner for a minute, as Amalissa was smiling calmly and waving at the crowd. She wasn't too over-enthusiastic, but looked the most genuine of the tributes. That in itself was a brave angle. She wore a helmet with wings on it, armor that showed her broad shoulders and toned arms and legs.

District Three was next. Joltee had heard that the stylists were collaborating on a robot look, but it was obvious that there had been some kind of miscommunication between the chittery chattery best friends that always talked over each other. Marco was wearing a too-tight-for-comfort silver jumpsuit with a pair of shiny space boots, skin and hair painted silver to match. He looked quite strange, as he was a towering guy, but just looked so terrified. He tried to keep a smile on, but the look eventually overtook him. Joltee couldn't help but be slightly disappointed, but he figured that anyone would be terrified in such a tight monstrosity. Unfortunately, his District partner was not much better off. Apple was inside a box, also with a robot look, but instead of humanoid, her stylist made her a big, boxy version of a robot you would see in the form of a wind-up toy. It was impossible to see her face. She tried to wave and show the crowd she was determined and athletic, but it was near impossible to do in such a boxy monstrosity.

Luckily, District Four brought more tasteful outfits. Tay was dressed like a sea goddess, with a white halter top that exposed her toned core, and a tunic-like skirt that started white and eventually faded into ocean-colored ruffles resembling waves. That, and her excited grinning and waving, set her a step ahead of the rest in terms of crowd favor. Soren's outfit was nice too. The boy was left shirtless, with gold bands around his biceps, a trident in his hand. He wore a tunic on the bottom, matching Tay's. Yes, that all made sense. What didn't make sense was the fake white beard his stylists put on him. It matched the frost his stylists put on his previously dark hair. It accentuated the sun-bleached part he had on the ends, but totally out of proportion. His stylist promised that he could make the whole beard thing work when the idea was first presented. The beard was supposed to fade into dolphins, but apparently that part of the project failed. Maybe next year. He was also smiling and waving to the crowd, doing his best with what he had.

District Five's outfits were half-interesting. Iris was in a clear prism, and her District partner Avery was wearing a black jumpsuit with a light coming out from the chest. When the design was first presented, his stylist talked about glow in the dark paint, not considering that it wouldn't work under the lights of the parade. Something told Joltee that the not-so-intelligent woman had gone through with it anyways. When the white light hit the prism, it split into different colors of the rainbow. The crowd loved that, and they loved how Avery and Iris both waved and smiled.

District Six's outfits were the most dull thus far, as they were just dressed as mechanics. Nerrah looked pretty much like herself, in an oversized navy jumpsuit and oil smudges painted on. Her stylist tried to make her glamorous and greasy, but that was basically impossible. Nerrah just stood there, arms crossed, looking annoyed. Devon was also stone-faced, wearing the same oversized navy jumpsuit with smudges. Overall, the most underwhelming so far.

District Seven was barely much better, with the trees act all over again. Pyra was wearing a brown jumpsuit, with "branches" coming out of it, leaves attached. She waved to the crowd, but kept her face solid with determination, to convey that she wasn't just going to be another cutesy bloodbath. Joltee admired that about her. Rowan was smiling and waving in a friendly manner. His stylist had assured Joltee that he had the perfect idea for a creative costume, but his idea of creative was severely different from everyone else's. Rowan was dressed like a _pine_ tree, with branches that had green needles, not leaves. Yes, the epitome of creativity, right there. Joltee did everything to not roll his eyes.

District Eight was next. They had somewhat complementary costumes. Dinah was a big puffball of white cotton, and looked absolutely shell-shocked. She sunk into her costume, eyes wide with all of the attention, like a deer in headlights. Joltee was slightly disappointed, but knew that this was one of the most overwhelming sensations those simpletons would ever have in their puny, miserable lives. Mav was wearing an outfit made of bright green felt, with a triangular green hat, brown sash of felt around his stomach, and puffy, olive green pants. He looked like a fictional character, almost, which the crowd loved. He patted Dinah on the back and waved with an easy smile, but Joltee figured that the criminal had to have hated being in that getup. It was pretty funny.

After that came District Nine. Joltee was surprised that Mar wasn't wearing the grain dress their stylist had planned, as Joltee had seen it in the works. Instead, Mar was wearing a very last-minute corn costume, with cardboard green encasing them in a yellow costume with painted-on kernels and straw sticking up out of them. Joltee wondered what prompted the very sudden change of philosophy. They kept a straight face, flashing the crowd a simple peace sign. Their District partner, Milo, was in a cylindrical monstrosity, decorated to appear like a silo. The boy posed and shouted into the crowd, getting them to cheer, "MILO THE SILO! MILO THE SILO!" over and over again, which made them happy.

District Ten's outfits were matching as well. Both tributes were wearing fleshy, pink outfits with little ears and curly tails. Katarina had a bale of hay in her arms, like the classic story, and Everett had some twigs. _Hopefully they wouldn't be challenged by a big bad wolf,_ Joltee thought, chuckling to himself. The costumes were cute, either way. Katarina had a friendly smile on her face as she waved at the crowd. Everett looked slightly nervous, not looking at the crowd but waving anyways. A little underwhelming, but not as bad as District 6, that was for sure.

District Eleven had a very unique angle as well. Both of their tributes were dressed like some of the songbirds that populated the District. Ali was dressed in a yellow, canary-type outfit with some sparkles for extra effect. She looked cute, and played up that angle as best as she could. Thoreau was dressed like a red cardinal. He looked pretty ridiculous, especially as he kept a calm (though annoyed) posture and just gave nods to the crowd. Joltee couldn't help a little chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.

The final District was Twelve, as always. Ever since the idea for fire first surfaced, that had been District 12's fixation. Joltee almost wished for another typical coal miner duo, at least that would be less cliche than the whole fire act. Brooklyn wore a flaming headdress along with a sparkling black dress that reached the floor. The tributes were both smiling and waving, both of them bouncing on their toes. They seemed to have good chemistry, from what it appeared, and if not, they acted well enough that the crowd loved it.

The chariots reached the area nearest the platform, where the horses obediently trotted around the circle a few times before stopping.

"You'll be on live in three… Two… One... Now!"

Joltee stood, raising his glass. "Welcome tributes. On behalf of all of the Capitol, I welcome you here, to our home, for the Ninety-Sixth annual Hunger Games!" The crowd applauded as Joltee gave a slight tip of the glass, symbolizing an invisible toast, while being sure to make eye contact with each of the tributes as he spoke. "We thank you for your sacrifice and courage as you prepare for the coming days of preparation to represent your home in this honorable event. One of you will emerge victorious with the crown, winning your District food and your name glory and honor. May your eyes, ears, and heart be open as you introduce yourselves to the nation and prepare to fight for yourself and your District. And, of course, may the odds be _ever_ in your favor." Joltee smirked as he sipped the wine, before the chariots finished another lap of the roundabout and started back to the Tribute Building. Joltee hummed along to Horn of Plenty as they went, feeling more cheerful than ever. He gave Celestia's hand a firm squeeze, who gave him a polite nod.

When the doors closed and the song ended, the crowd dispersed, and Joltee immediately started back to HQ, so he could have a front row seat to observing the tributes' first interactions with each other.

* * *

 **Zircon Smith, District 1 Male, 17**

 _the victor of panem  
_

Zircon felt incredibly bittersweet about everything. To say that the past couple of hours, days even, have been overwhelming for him would be an understatement. Trying to make sure everything was in place, prepared for the Games, set up perfectly to ensure success, it was all very stressful and took a lot of time.

Being on the chariot wasn't so bad. Being cheered for and treated like royalty wasn't too bad either. But, when it came down to it, he wasn't here to be pampered like a king. Surely all of the tributes had to know that by now. They were here to fight, until twenty-three of them were decaying corpses and one survived.

He wished he'd taken that stupid letter and thrown it in the trash. He wished he had the balls to tell his father that he wasn't sure it was the best idea to volunteer at seventeen, or even at all.

Or at least had the balls to lie and say he wasn't picked.

The truth was that he was just too afraid to. Zircon depended on his father still, and couldn't imagine trying to function on his own without his guidance. He didn't even know how to properly load a dishwasher, let alone manage finances and try to live an adult life. He was only seventeen, and seventeen-year-olds in District One trained, and that was that. It was life. Zircon never would have anticipated getting here, though. If anything, he thought he'd have at least one more year of training to clean up some of his skills before he stepped foot on that reaping stage. This was quickly spiralling into a disaster, and Zircon just felt lost.

Hindsight was definitely twenty-twenty. If he had just been like Topaz and had the will to stand up to his father and say that he didn't think he was cut out for this. That the thought of going into the Games next to a menace like Bliss was horrifying to him. That he needed more time, that he wanted to wait, that he didn't want to volunteer at all. He would have been happy living a happy, quiet life. Maybe he would take his mother's job as a jeweler, find a nice girl and have a family.

But no. Instead, he was here. He bent like metal when the heat picked up. He let his father decide this for him, because the fear of disappointing him, or worse, making him mad, was seemingly not worth it. But anything, all of the wrath of Quartz, would be worth it, because at least in the end, Zircon's life wouldn't have been in danger. He would have been home with Topaz, watching the reapings, and sleeping in his own bed, he would have been safe. He wouldn't have had to worry about politics or facades. He wouldn't have to try and build up his defenses against his normally friendly nature. He was too soft for the Games, everyone knew it. Zircon pretended he didn't believe it, but he knew the truth. It seemed that Quartz was the only person that didn't know it, or just refused to admit it.

Zircon would have rather been anywhere but there. He wouldn't have even had to say he didn't want to be in the Games. He could have just kept it simple, he could have just said he'd like to wait another year, and not let Quartz push him into something everyone knew he wasn't ready for. It would have at least bought him more time to pluck up the courage to tell the truth. Instead, he had done whatever it took to keep his father happy, even if it meant what could be his imminent death.

If Zircon could go back, he would change everything. But of course, he couldn't. He couldn't do a single damn thing to change it, so he just had to suck it up and deal with it. Feeling angry wouldn't do anything, so he swallowed the feelings down, just as he always did. He wished he could talk to his best friend Topaz, who was the only person Zircon really trusted with his deepest emotions. He couldn't trust anyone there, not even his own mentor. How sad and pitiful was that?

"Come on Generic Brand, let's go meet our allies," Bliss said, bringing Zircon back to reality. His District partner was a notorious bitch, and liked being the Queen Bee. Zircon stayed quiet and followed her to where the Two tributes were approaching. "Hello District Two," she said when they got close enough to hear.

"Evening," the boy said. He took his helmet off, revealing pale skin and light blond hair. He was a hulking tower of a guy, and the girl wasn't so shabby herself in terms of build. There were certainly the warriors that District Two was known for. The thought of eventually having to fight either of them terrified Zircon, but he kept a cool exterior.

"You're looking quite… Festive," the girl said, seeming amused.

"So are you!" Zircon said, giving a relaxed smile. "Zircon Smith."

"Generic Brand White Boy," Bliss said, a fierce smirk on her face. "I'm Bliss Michelson."

"And I'm-"

"Nobody cares, Giraffe Neck," Bliss said, examining her manicure and running her hands across the soft fabric of her cape. Ama looked slightly annoyed, but it soon faded as a loud voice called, "Wait for us!"

The Four tributes approached, the girl running and practically dragging her District partner, who looked reluctant to be so excited.

"Hey!" the girl said, letting go of the boy and giving a salute to the others. "Tay Faringdale." She definitely won the award for best-dressed, she looked _amazing_.

"Sure, Belly Display," Bliss said, rolling her eyes. Tay clenched her fists but was smarter than to pick a fight so early.

"I'm Zircon," the boy said, "And that's… Sorry, I didn't catch it."

"Ama," the District Two girl said.

"And I'm Ares Hardy."

"Human Barrel," Bliss sneered, but was mostly just amusing herself for now. She had to have been smart enough to know that she'd be dead meat against him.

"Anyways," Ares said, giving her a glare before glancing back at the boy from Four. "Who's our friend with the beard?"

Soren took the fake beard off and threw it on the ground. His appearance was certainly a shock, his entire hair bleached blond.

"Soren Cantarell," the boy introduced himself.

"Bleach Party," Bliss decided, causing the boy's lips to turn into a snarl.

The group went into an awkward silence. Zirc gave a friendly smile, which Tay returned first, then Ama somewhat enthusiastically. Tay was about to start speaking when Ares spoke for her.

"I believe that our alliance should have a strong leader, and I feel I fit the role." Zircon wasn't about to fight the towering guy on this fact. Apparently, neither was Tay, because she gave a slight nod of approval. Nobody countered, even if Bliss looked like she wanted to.

"I guess that's that then," Soren said. "Can we go to bed yet?"

"Oh come on, we should at least try to get to know our allies a little bit," Tay said. But Zircon knew that they would spend the entire weak scouting out each other's weaknesses more than anything. It was the only way to win.

"I agree with Soren," Ama said, "I think we should get a good night's rest before the real stuff starts tomorrow."

"Agreed," Ares said, and everyone nodded.

"Besides, you guys wouldn't fit my friend standards anyways," Bliss said, with a smile that only the Queen Bee was capable. The group started to the elevators together without a word. Tay was the only one who spoke, making simple remarks about the chariot ceremony and the costumes. Zircon would give her nods and responses, but the others mostly ignored her attempts at conversation. The elevator stopped at the Fourth floor first, then Second, and finally, the first.

"Night," Zircon said, good-naturedly. It wasn't in his nature to get mad too quickly. "Sleep well."

"You need all the beauty rest you can, Sweetie," Bliss said condescendingly. "Wouldn't want to be a _disappointment_ when morning comes." She swirled on her foot, smirking as she walked to her room. Zircon went back to his room too, getting showered and into bed.

The comment itself was bothersome enough, but more bothersome was the way it stuck with Zircon as he drifted off into sleep.

* * *

 _ **Authors' Note:**_ _So it's been two months… you can totally blame Dreamer and her schoolwork for this one since Celtic was done with her part weeks ago. I hope I can be forgiven._ **It's cool Dreamer, I think we all understand the stress of finals and school and such. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Super exciting to be in the pre-Games, hopefully we can kick this cow as school lets out and get into the Games ASAP! Thanks for sticking with us! Any and all reviews are greatly appreciated! :) Have a great day and good luck on all your finals and such, y'all.**


	13. Training Day One

**Training Day 1**

 **Bliss Michaelson, District One Female, 18**

 _IVolunteerAsAuthor_

Bliss never thought her first night in the Capitol would be anything like it was. But, in hindsight, she could have seen it coming from a million miles away. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. She didn't sleep a wink.

It was all fine at first. Bliss was feeling alright. She was the confident one, of course, the leader. The one that everyone looked to. She was the Queen. And nothing bad could ever happen to the Queen. She showered quickly after chariots and got to bed. The bed was perfectly comfortable, the sheets were warm and fluffy, but also breathable so she didn't feel like she was struggling for air.

She was the most comfortable she'd ever been, practically. Her Aunt's house was great, after all, but as much as Bliss tried, she couldn't make it her one-hundred percent, honest-to-God home. Yeah, Aunt Majesty loved Bliss like her own child, and was definitely a good role model. She was studious, ambitious, and never gave up on her dreams. She was encouraging and proud of Bliss in everything she did. She was everything Bliss aspired to be, she was great. She was the biggest reason Bliss volunteered, to honor her.

But she wasn't Bliss's mother. She couldn't bring her parents back. She couldn't take the memories away from them any more than she could for herself. She couldn't just… Get them back. It had taken years to accept that. Years and plenty of visits to the commune. She finally had to accept it. Only then could she really start to grow.

Anyways, she was incredibly comfortable. Everything really was just right. From the pleasant floral scent to the temperature to the coolness of the pillow on her face. It was all perfect. She went off into a light sleep, but was awakened quickly.

She woke herself up before she could see the carnage. Over the course of the past four years, she'd learned how to wake herself up from the nightmares. She realized it had been a little over an hour since she'd gone to bed, and she still had a whole night.

Bliss didn't sleep very much. She was too afraid. If she fell asleep too long, or too deeply… She was the most vulnerable she was. Fame came with a price. Everyone knew her name now. She had no more privacy, and she wouldn't as a Victor. Everyone would know her. Some people would hate her. Bliss was good at dealing with the haters, though. But… What if someone hated her like that gunman hated those innocent people? She stayed up the rest of the night, nightmares plaguing her. Every time she closed her eyes, she had visions of a madman bursting into the Tribute Center and sneaking up to the first floor. Porcia, Unity, King, would all be dead. Zircon would try to fight back before a bullet pierced his chest. They'd have to specify a special 25th placing for him. The escorts, the mentors, they would all be dead.

Bliss felt horrible. Thinking about it was just horrible.

She was afraid and paranoid. But of course, nobody could know that. After holding that persona for so long, she couldn't let it drop now. This was her moment of glory, of course. So, when Porcia came to awaken her and Zircon, she got up, washed her face, and moisturized the bags under her eyes away before strutting her way out to the main room where breakfast was being served to the mentors, where she was soon joined by Zircon.

By now, she was just full of nervous excitement. They got some last-minute training advice over breakfast from their mentors, King Sumner and Unity Quisenberry. After waking up, her anxiety changed focus to the events of the day, instead of the worst-case scenarios.

Bliss's training plan was remain low key and not make herself a target to her allies. She was perfectly happy to step up as leader, as she was used to leading her posse of girls back home, but if someone else wanted the role, Bliss had decided it was best not to argue. She had to be smart while choosing her battles, after all. Therefore, Bliss would focus on having a little fun, while showing she was a worthy career, but not too much of a threat that her allies would want to eliminate her early.

It was all a delicate game of strategy, in which Bliss had to play every card right. One wrong move and it she could have a target on her back. And, with temperamental Careers, there was certainly potential for disaster.

Zircon seemed nervous over breakfast, but unlike Bliss, he let that nerve show. She was sure he couldn't help it. She was used to faking confidence, and did it with swagger and grace. That was one thing she could be proud of, one thing she could do. One thing that could easily carry her through the Games, keep her sane. She'd seen some shit, and now she was prepared to see any amount of shit, if it meant she'd get back home a Victor.

Bliss also had a secret. She was great at keeping secrets, the only one who knew this strategy was her mentor. Bliss didn't want to stick to the Careers for too long. She knew that it wouldn't last forever. She needed some people that were rational and wouldn't do anything rash: girls. She wanted to make a girl group. It would take some secret conversations, but Bliss was smart. She could get away with it.

Sure, catfights were ugly and Bliss knew some girls that were absolutely savage. However, in her experience, girls were and would always be the more rational, logical sex. As a team, they would be unstoppable. With Tay's energy and seeming malleability, Amalissa's quiet intelligence, and Bliss's infallible leadership, they would make a well-rounded power trio if Bliss had ever seen one.

Porcia, the escort for District One, ate with them. It was a bit off-putting for the floor to have an escort that was no older than the tributes that volunteered. She was trying to talk to the mentors, both of whom were trying to focus on their tributes. It was common knowledge that Porcia was a bit of a ditz. Her favorite fashion choice was swirls, from her hair to her eyes.

She had spent the train ride talking about the people from the District she'd gotten to talk to at the reaping. She even showed off some phone numbers she got from some of the seventeen and eighteen-year-olds. Then, she talked to Zircon. She was obviously flirting. Twirling her hair around her finger, giggling, staring at his lips. Bliss wouldn't have been surprised if she'd grabbed him by his shirt and kissed him.

She talked to Bliss with the same look in her eyes, biting her lip, and Bliss just played with her a bit before shutting her down. It was just what Bliss did. It was just as satisfyingly funny to do to a Capitolite as it was to a drooling guy that was staring at her boobs. Porcia pouted for a bit, even moreso when the mentors didn't have time to listen to her. Soon, she realized that she was the escort, and had to do her job.

She still thought she had a chance with Zircon, though. Just the thought amused Bliss to no end.

Soon, the mentors and tributes loaded up the elevator and went down to the Training Center. Bliss's anxiety quickly turned into excitement as she saw the familiar stations before her. This was training, just how she liked it. An excited smile spread across her face as the other Districts trickled in. Nobody was late, but as always, District Twelve was the last to arrive. Bliss couldn't believe she was really here. It was still a bit surreal of an experience.

Zircon was trying to hide his nerves by the time the Head Trainer started to give her speech, but Bliss didn't think he was doing a very good job at it. Maybe it was just because she'd spent more time with him and could tell his nervous habits, but she knew he was shitting himself. Hopefully he'd relax once he got a weapon in his hands. He wasn't used to it, but here, he was a Top Dog. They were the top of the food chain, they were the ones that ran the show. Bliss was used to it, but she knew Zircon wasn't. If only he were a better actor.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of rules and regulations, the tributes were released to start training.

Bliss straightened her shoulders, put a confident smile on her face, and strutted over to her allies, ready to play the game: and win.

* * *

 **Iris Solaric, District Five Female, 17**

 _beauthg03_

Iris's hands shook as she held the knife.

This was crazy, she had no idea how the hell she got there. Well, she did know how she got there. She was reaped, barely had time to say goodbye to her loved ones, thrown on a train to the Capitol, dressed like a giant prism and waving to a giant crowd, and now she was here.

She'd give anything to be back home. Home was where her family was, her friends. Home was where she worked, home was where she loved. Her biggest worry back home was climbing shelves of inventory in a dark warehouse, the best way to evade suspicious eyes. When she had that worry, though, she was with her friends. The fun of spending time with her friends and the excitement of doing something borderline-rebellious made the endeavor worth it. So many memories were made on those shelves. Maybe they weren't comfortable, or sturdy, but they served their purpose.

Iris missed her friends. Kyva was Iris's friend from work, so the two of them saw each other every day at the windmill farm. After spending every day with her, Iris ached to see her again. Welda was Iris's childhood friend. She worked in the warehouses, taking inventory, so they didn't get to see her in the day. However, she knew those warehouses inside and out, so she always knew what to show the others and when they played hide and seek together, she couldn't be beat.

Not to mention her family. Her little brother Zephyr, who was probably sitting at home after a day at school with nothing to do but keep up the house. He always kept it pristine, though, and Iris was sure he'd cope with his sister being gone by making work for himself around the house. He had to distract himself from the possibility that his sister could be dead, and he had five more reapings before he would be safe from the same fate.

Joules would be welding pipes, just as she always did, but her mind was probably wandering to her sister. The two sisters were the closest in age, and spent a lot of time together. Joules was safe from reapings at nineteen, so she would never worry for herself again. She was probably just as upset that Iris was going as she would have been going herself, though. Iris wanted to see her again, hear her reassurance…

Luna was the oldest Solaric. She wasn't going to be a Solaric for much longer, though, as she was engaged to be married. She was ready to live her life, and this probably put a damper on her plans. Iris felt horrible. She cared so deeply for her siblings, she couldn't stand the them being upset.

As for her parents, Iris knew they would be beside themselves as well. Her mother would have to handle her students asking her questions about Iris and what it's like to send her off to the Games. She taught little ones, so a lot of them probably had no idea what the Games really were. She would have to keep her head up, keep a smile on, and answer the questions. Her father, the most hardworking man Iris had ever known, would keep at it. She hoped that he would take some time off working at the dam, but also understood that he did what he had to in order to provide for his family, which she admired.

She tried not to focus on how much she missed them all. And she really did miss them. She could focus on them in the Arena, when she had nothing and nowhere to go, and needed a reason to fight her very hardest. But now, she needed to stay focused. She needed to learn these skills if she wanted to survive.

The trainer showed her the proper wrist flick, which Iris copied as best as she could still holding the knife, before stepping aside and letting her take a throw for herself. She took a deep breath, focusing on everything she had been told. Every part of the body was important for the proper knife-throwing stance, from the position of her feet to the focus of her eyes. It was certainly a lot to take in. Iris was never one to shy away from a challenge, though, so she took it all in stride. She kept her head up and eyed the target. She stepped forward, and let the knife fly. It flew out of her hand, straight to the ground, where it stuck itself in the mats that were provided to protect the floor and keep from loud clattering.

"Alright, alright Ares, I guess I can tone down my never-ending skill," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice that caused the tribute who was training at the station next to hers to laugh. "But only because you're really scared."

"Too much flick," the girl from District Six said.

"Really? I had no idea." She gave a side-smile so that the girl could see she was just being snarky, not mean. The last thing she needed was to make enemies at a time like this. Luckily for her, Nerrah appreciated the sarcasm, and gave a hearty chuckle.

"Iris, right? You were the giant pyramid."

The District Five girl sighed. "Yep. I was the prism. You were... " Iris couldn't remember what the other girl's chariot costume was.

"A mechanic," Nerrah filled in, laughing. "My everyday work clothes, basically." She brushed some dark hair behind her ear, which caused Iris to notice hers, which was tickling the back of her neck. She'd asked her prep team to cut it short so that it wouldn't be a bother to her. She had seen a replay of the seventy-third Games, which took place in a hot jungle, in which the girls from One and Two both chopped their hair off with swords so it wouldn't bother them in the heat. Iris thought that was quite smart; who needed a rat's nest when she wouldn't have access to a comb for days, maybe weeks? Cutting it was the best way. She liked the end result, though it was a bit weird not to have that extra protection covering her neck.

"Oh, right. I remember now." She had a vague memory of seeing the Six tributes up ahead of her dressed in matching jumpsuits.

"Not quite as showy, but about a million times as comfortable I bet." She gave a chortle as she added, "And much more flattering."

Iris glanced over, feeling slightly offended. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, um, I meant that you were just… In a big blocky costume, I didn't mean- you're a good-looking girl, I mean…" She looked like her mind was racing as she was trying to articulate what exactly she meant by the comment in words. Iris just brushed it off. She did get what Nerrah was trying to say, even if she hadn't been able to explain it, and knew that the girl from Six meant no harm.

"How are you doing with these?" Iris asked, taking another. Nerrah did as well, and both girls took another throw. Iris's bounced off the dummy, while Nerrah's flipped over and hit the ground sadly.

"Not well," Nerrah said, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly. "But these wouldn't be my weapon of choice."

"What would?" Iris couldn't say she wasn't the least bit curious. It would always be a good idea to ally with tributes that were better fighters and could have her back. Nerrah didn't take another knife as she approached the trainer, and asked a question. The Capitolite looked confused, but soon disappeared. Iris saw her minutes later, walking to the Gamemaker balcony and talking to Celestia herself, who went to a group of Gamemakers. Iris went back to her knives as Nerrah cheerfully said, "They're working on it. But while I'm waiting, I might as well try some kind of survival station." The girl disappeared, and Iris wondered what choice of weapon could possibly warrant so much hassle.

She kept working on knives, her thoughts travelling some more as she focused on each part of her body individually, working with the trainer until she had a perfect stance. She had just hit the dummy and drawn blood when she heard a loud voice call her name.

"Iris! Look!" She turned around to see Nerrah at the sword station, a Capitol trainer across from her. The trainer was holding a sword, but that wasn't what Nerrah had. She was holding a thick, metal wrench. Iris soon saw that she wasn't the only tribute that was watching. A couple others were watching her with interest as she used her hand-to-hand skills with the wrench to defend against the sword and spar with the trainer. Nerrah lost the first time as she was "stabbed" in the heart, which caused a lot of the observers to go back to their work. Iris was interested, though. It was obvious the girl knew how to handle the tool as it was intended to function, and Iris wouldn't be surprised if she could learn how to use it as a weapon by the end of the three days of training.

Before Iris knew it, the bell rang to signify that it was lunch time. The Six girl wiped some sweat off her brow as she approached Iris.

"Hey! Wanna catch some grub with me?"

Iris knew that having an ally that has so much potential could only be a good thing.

She looked at Nerrah and cracked a teasing smirk. "Only if you never say catch this grub in reference to eating again. Ever."

Nerrah laughed as they entered the cafeteria and gave a firm nod. "Alright. Deal."

* * *

 **Amaranth "Mar" Smith, District Nine, 15**

 _CrissKenobie-The-Numenorean_

Mar felt like they had a productive morning. They had wanted to try out as much as they could in the coming days, hitting anything and everything they could squeeze in. In the first four hours of training so far, they had visited the edible plant station, the knot station, the trap station, and the fire building station. They quickly realized just how much information there was to soak in, but as long as they picked up most of it, Mar thought they would be fine. After all, there was no reason why they couldn't stop by stations more than once if they felt like they needed a refresher. She had talked to a few of the other tributes too, such as Rowan from Seven at the fire building station and Nerrah from Six at the traps.

Mar wasn't sure what Vale, District Nine's only living mentor would say about their training strategy. He had told both Mar and Milo to watch the others and be attentive to surroundings, but ultimately stay focused. Mar wasn't sure if hopping from station to station was what Vale would consider focused, but it just felt right to them. It was good to be well-rounded rather than spend all their time at one skill, wasn't it?

One thing was for sure; their strategy kept them busy and the morning flew by. At noon, a bell rang for lunch, and after filling their tray with food, Mar looked for a place to sit. They were one of the first tributes to receive their meal, and only a few tributes were seated at the tables. Mar decided it would be nice to have some company while they ate, so they took a place next to the girl from Eight, who looked to be about Mar's age. She was lanky and tall, with auburn hair and light brown eyes. As Mar sat down, the girl looked up in surprise.

"Hey," Mar greeted.

The girl gave a small wave.

"Mind if I join you?" After the girl shook her head, they added, "Cool. You're Dinah, right?"

Dinah nodded.

"I'm Mar."

Dinah didn't respond beyond another nod, and instead pushed her food around on her tray. That was fine. Maybe she was just shy. Mar usually found it easy to make conversation though, and silence didn't make them uncomfortable like it did some people. At the same time, there was no harm in being friendly.

"What have you done so far today?" Mar asked.

"Oh uh…" Dinah shrunk back a little "I-I… uh… I dunno… I tied some knots mostly…"

Mar could tell Dinah was uncomfortable with talking, so they didn't push her. "Oh, that's nice. I tied some knots, too. And I went to the plant, trap, and fire building stations."

Again, Dinah nodded. Before she or Mar could say anything else, Mar spotted Milo heading to their table.

"Hey Milo the silo," Mar said, using the nickname Milo had used himself during the chariot rides. "How's training going?"

The boy beamed. "Good. I went to the rock wall and have been talking to some people. It's hard to find people who want to talk back though,"

Mar nodded, understanding their district partner's situation. Milo was a nice guy, and despite his scrawny, somewhat frail appearance, he was nice to talk to. Mar couldn't help but hope he would have a better chance than they had originally thought. Of course, Milo doing well also meant that they wouldn't be making it home to her parents and significant others, and that idea was something Mar didn't want to think about.

"Ah, yeah. Are you looking for allies?"

Milo nodded quickly. "I haven't found anyone who's too interested yet, though. About you?"

Mar shrugged. "I don't know if I'll have allies. I kind of like to do my own thing. Maybe though."

The two extroverts from Nine continued to chat, while their companion from Eight ate her lunch quietly. Mar thought she was probably listening in, which was fine. They hoped they were enjoying the company anyway. Dinah was the first to finish her food, and she gave Milo and Mar a wave before heading back to the knot tying station. After finishing eating, Milo and Mar parted ways as well.

Mar glanced around, trying to decide where to go next. Eventually, they decided to try the throwing knives station, which at the moment, had no other tributes. With some practice with survival skills under their belt, Mar figured it would be a good idea to try their hand at weapons, too.

The throwing knives trainer was a man with wavy, purple hair and scaly brown skin. He grinned, flashing pointed white teeth at Mar. "Welcome. I'm Caiman Crocodilus. Are you interested in learning the technique of throwing knives?"

Mar nodded. "That's why I'm here."

"Excellent," said Caiman, standing behind them. He selected a knife from the rack. "It's simple, really. Which hand is your dominant hand?"

"Left," said Mar, raising their left hand.

"Alright, hold that out, palm facing me." Mar did as they were told, and Caiman placed the knife in their hand and instructed them how to properly hold it.

Mar didn't realize just how many steps throwing a knife would have. First, Caiman explained the proper stance, then how to swing the knife forward, and finally, the release. It was a complicated process, and Mar made several dozen attempts before the knife even hit the stationary target. Eventually, Caiman left Mar to their own devices to help the fourteen-year-old from Eight, Maverick.

Mar, meanwhile, continued to throw, not really trying all too hard. Mar didn't want to draw too much attention to themself. They wanted the other tributes to think they were decent at best, or even better, that they sucked. Then, hopefully the target on the fifteen-year-old's back wouldn't be too huge.

After about a half an hour of throwing, Mar saw the girl from Two approach out of the corner of their eye. Amalissa was hard to miss; she had to be close to six feet tall, perhaps a little over, and had sleek black hair that was pinned into a bun at the top of her head.

Caiman introduced himself to her. "Would you like assistance?"

"No, thank you," Amalissa said politely, shaking her head. "I have experience with knives."

The girl began to throw, but Mar did their best to ignore her. As social as Mar might be, they didn't think it was best to try to engage a career in conversation, so they kept to themself.

As Mar threw, they noticed Amalissa's gaze upon them. Mar was used to the stares of people around them. They were used to being under people's curious or critical glances often back home in Nine, either when they were out in public with their parents or holding hands with Mill, Teff, and Farro as the walked in a line. Polyamorous relationships weren't that common in the district, and many people were intrigued, if not scornful at seeing more than two people being intimate with each other as a romantic relationship. To Mar though, it was all natural. Mar loved Mill, but they also loved Teff and Farro. And the three of them loved Mar. Same with their mom, dad, and papa.

Mar knew polyamorous relationships weren't for everyone, and the feelings had to be mutual for everyone involved, of course. For Mar, their significant others, and their parents, it worked perfectly. Even though not everyone understood, Mar felt like being polyamorous was a part or who they were, and they weren't afraid to show that very important piece of themself.

Feeling little need to stick around, Mar decided to move on to the axes station. They weren't sure why they choose axes in particular, but they didn't seem any harm in it. Currently, there was only one other tribute there, the massive guy from District Three, Marco.

Mar had to admit, the guy looked intimidating. He was taller and heavier than most of the careers. Mar noticed his tan forearms and hands were covered with scars, and they couldn't help but wonder how he had obtained them. He seemed to be scowling, though his aim with the throwing ax in his hand was decent enough. He didn't looked to be the most friendly, but for all Mar knew, his looks could be deceiving. After all, Mill had a brother who was a giant, though not as large as Marco, and he was an absolute teddy bear.

"Hey," Mar said, tilting their head up slightly to look the eighteen-year-old in the eyes.

Marco turned to them and stared for a few seconds in confusion, as if unsure if they were talking to him. "Oh, uh… hi."

"I'm Mar."

Marco nodded, but also looked kind of pissed off. "Marco."

"Nice to meet you," said Mar, and they received another nod. Once again, Mar got the sense that the person they were trying to have a conversation with didn't really have much interest in speaking with him. Instead, Mar watched him throw the ax a few more times before trying to figure the weapon out for themself.

Time passed much more quickly that afternoon than it had in the morning, and Mar had time to visit only a few more stations before the head trainer announced it was time to end for the day. Overall, Mar was satisfied. They weren't an expert in anything, but they had covered a lot of ground. Hopefully, that would be enough.

* * *

 **Alisha "Ali" Morwelder, District Eleven, 12**

 _LostItAtSorry_

Ali started out slow, but now was really ready to get some weapon skills under her belt. She may have been one of the youngest tributes, true, but she wasn't ready to be counted out. She just had to talk to the right people, make a good group of trustworthy allies, and she'd be well on her way to the title.

She had to play it smart, which was something she was quite good at. It wouldn't be the first time a tribute won by playing smart. Who could forget the bookworm from District Seven that won the eighty-fourth Hunger Games? He had been more interested in non-fiction, whereas Ali especially liked fiction. She had a few books about mythology, which she read over and over again. Something about the symbolic value of it all, the lessons it taught, the fantasy… It was worth reading more than once, for sure. Each time Ali read her favorite stories, she took something new from them. It had turned her into an astute, critical reader and thinker. And brains could get her far if she used them to her advantage.

Ali didn't care much for her District partner Thor, so she wasn't really sure who she wanted to eat lunch with. She had spent the morning at the camouflage station, but the only tribute that was there was the lanky boy from Ten. Ali tried to talk to him, but he didn't say anything and instead avoided her like the plague. He seemed the kind that could use some allies: not particularly strong, looking like he'd been starved more than trained. However, he wasn't very interested in having an ally. Ali figured that might be smart of him, if he could pull off being on his own.

Thorne had advised that she be looking around for allies, but be wary. She had to choose allies that were capable, not just because they were young. She needed trustworthy allies that could help her. Thorne told her to be sure not to sell herself short, and be fair about who she was with. People were bound to underestimate her because of her age and District, but she was going to shoot arrows, hit the target, and get allies that were just as determined as she was.

Ali got her food and looked around. It seemed a lot of tributes had her same predicament, wandering around the room and trying to figure out who to eat with. Ali slid into a chair, focusing on eating. Being alone didn't bother Ali, as she had some time to collect her thoughts. She wasn't exactly a social butterfly, and often prefered to spend time with books as opposed to people. She liked to spend time with the people she liked, but was awkward with first-time interactions. She wanted to make an alliance, though, so eventually she would have to talk to people. First, though, she could have some time to prepare. She ate quickly, making a plan for her afternoon.

She was going to prove to herself and all those Gamemakers that she was worth watching, even though she was from District Eleven and only twelve years old. She was going to learn a weapon and prove her worth. So that if she was in a fight, she could hold her own. She was going to work hard and prove herself.

As soon as she was done, she put her tray away and put her plan into action. She had been watching the Careers and seen the one station they hadn't inhabited: archery. She knew that a more basic weapon like a sword would be easier to learn, but Ali was willing to take the risk of learning a more practical weapon for her. A bow could take out its target before the tribute had a chance to notice they were being targeted. A sword required getting close to a target, who had a chance to fight back. Ali didn't want a fight. She just wanted to hunt them each as silently as possible. That'd be the best strategy, she and Thorne decided. Having allies to back her up was just that extra added bonus that would take her to Victory.

Ali went to the station, keeping her head up. She refused to let the Gamemakers see her shy or afraid. That would only add to the stereotype that younger tributes couldn't win because they weren't as mature. She tried not to look intimidated by the bow. She was Artemis, the huntress, the goddess of the moon. She smiled at that thought, taking a bow and greeting the trainer who would show her how to use it.

The lady had silver hair, metallic purple skin, and silvery-blue eyes and lips. Ali was a bit intimidated by her, but reminded herself that the trainer was going to help her.

"Oh! Welcome!" the lady squeaked. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see the young tribute there. "I'm so glad to see you! Alisha, right? My name is Cosima!"

"I go by Ali. Nice to meet you," she said quietly. She wanted to be polite, trying to pretend that the trainer was her sister, Mackenzie, or her friend, Ellia. Those two were just as extroverted and bubbly as this lady seems to be.

"Nice to meet you too, my dear! Did you want to learn how to use the bow?"

Ali cleared her throat. Even though Cosima was nice, she, like everyone else, was treating Ali like a child. Ali didn't want to be treated gently because she was young, she didn't want to be cooed at. Victors weren't cooed at. Victors were treated with respect. Ali wanted to be treated like any other tribute, like the seventeen and eighteen-year-olds.

"Yes. That's why I'm holding the bow and came to this station."

Cosima seemed surprised at the blunt response. "Oh, yes." She seemed to sober up as she took a bow of her own to demonstrate with. She showed Ali how to aim and shoot the bow. It was slightly more challenging than Ali expected it to be, but she didn't give up. She practiced for a while by herself, Cosima giving her advice after each shot. Now that she was over Ali's youth and small stature, she was actually quite helpful.

Soon, Cosima left to help another tribute that appeared at the station. Ali started to practice on her own. Each time the arrow clattered on the floor, Ali tried to think of what Cosima would say. Eventually, another tribute joined the station, taking Cosima's attention. Ali practiced beside the girl from Three for a while. The first time Ali hit the dummy, Apple was the only one watching.

"Nice!" the girl from Three said. "You seem to be getting the hang of that."

Ali glanced up. The girl from Three was eighteen, after all, and it was obvious that she was strong. Ali wasn't sure if she could convince this girl to ally with her, the youngest of the bunch and from a lower District. Thorne's advice not to undersell herself came back to her mind, though, so Ali was determined to try.

"Thanks," she said with a smile. "I'm not going to let them underestimate me."

"I admire that," Apple said, her tongue sticking out slightly as she aimed the bow. "I think it's time that us outer District tributes get to shine."

Both girls released another arrow. Apple's flew straight into the ground, while Ali's flew right past the dummy's head, hitting the wall behind it.

Apple laughed. "Man, that's going to be lethal if you can figure out how to control it."

Ali gave the other girl a confident smile. "I will."

"I don't know, I think I like swords better," Apple said. "I've been trying a little bit of everything to find where I fit."

Ali nodded. "I see. Aren't you worried that you won't have the expertise you need, though?"

Apple gave a confident grin. "Maybe. But I think I have it figured out. Besides, expertise puts a big target on your back."

"I see," Ali said. She supposed Apple already had a target on her back because she was older, from an outer District, and obviously physically fit. Making that target any bigger could be bad news for her. "Smart."

The girls aimed again. Ali's arrow went flying over the dummy's head, while Apple's flopped again. She heard a snicker behind them. When the girls looked behind them, they saw Bliss giving Ares a "can you believe this?" look, in typical Queen Bitch style. She glanced at Apple, who gave her a subtle wink. Her strategy seemed to be working.

They took a few more shots, during which Ali hit the target twice and Apple let her arrows hit the wall and the ground, anywhere but the dummy. Soon, she racked the bow.

"I think I'm going to do some more station-hopping before we have to go back to our compartments."

"Oh, I see. Well, good luck with that!"

Apple seemed to hesitate for just a second before she patted the twelve-year-old's shoulder. "I'm not counting you out," she said.

Ali couldn't help the beam that spread across her face. "I hope we can talk some more later," she said, implying a possible alliance. Teaming up with someone like Apple could really be good for her and she knew it.

"Yeah," Apple said, giving her a grin. "Sounds good." She waved and Ali gave her a nod as her hands were full with the bow. Then, Apple went to the knot-tying station, and Ali kept focusing on shooting the bow.

She aimed and let go. The arrow hit the outer rim of the target.

"Great shot!" Cosima said. She sounded pleasantly surprised again.

Ali beamed proudly. "Thank you," she said. All the while she was thinking, _Don't count me out yet. I'm going to be lethal._

* * *

 _ **Authors' Note:**_ T _raining day one is complete! Whoo-hoo! What do you think of the slowly developing relationships? Are there any you think might work well together or any you think just won't work?_ **Feel free to let us know which tributes you'd like to see interact and we'll do our best to make it happen! We love to know what you think via reviews! _Thanks to everyone who's supporting us, and we'll see you next month for Training Day two!_** _Maybe even sooner, but both of us are going to be busy working/volunteering for future job experience so we'll see. :)_


	14. Training Day Two

**Training Day 2**

 **Russet "Russ" Hem, 17, District Twelve Male**

 _AKLNx-Stories_

When Russ woke up on the second day of training, his first thought was to make sure Grandma was awake until he remembered within seconds that Grandma wasn't here. Grandma was back in District Twelve, safe and sound. Russ hoped he could return to her soon. She must be getting really lonely in that house all by herself. Russ kept his thoughts on his Grandma and the fun memories they shared, not wanting to focus on what he had to face in the upcoming days, perhaps even weeks, if he wanted to see her again.

Even though it wasn't quite seven in the morning, he was the last one out of his room, with Brooklyn, Effie, and the two stylists gathered around the table. Brooklyn grinned at him and gave a friendly wave, while Effie smiled kindly.

"Good morning, Russet," the slowly aging escort greeted. "I was just about to wake you. We have a busy, busy day today so I suggest you get a good meal in you before you go to training."

Russ nodded, sitting down and piling his plate with delicious food, most of which he had never tried before. He was happy to eat with people he had come to think of as friends. Although District Twelve had no living mentors any more, Effie was doing really well on her own, at least in Russ's opinion. She was strict, yes, but Russ could tell it was only because she cared. Russ knew she wanted him and Brooklyn to do well, and he appreciated the faith she had in both of them. Russ also found himself getting along well with his fourteen-year-old district partner, Brooklyn. The two tributes seemed to be quite similar in disposition. Like Russ, Brooklyn was rarely seen without a smile on her face.

"So, Russ, Brooklyn… have either of you found any allies yet? I remember you both telling me you both want them."

"Well, I was kind of hoping for one as large as possible," Brooklyn said. As she spoke, Russ examined the small, table sized carousel of syrup, amazed at the many different flavors available. "Would you want to Russ?"

"Huh?" Russ asked, finding he had begun to daydream and had missed part of what Brooklyn had said.

"Would you want to start an alliance with me? I think it'd be really good if we could find at least two or three more people, too. The more the merrier, right?"

Russ beamed, happy Brooklyn wanted him in her alliance. "Yeah, of course! But who else?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe today we should split up and scout out other people. Maybe at least one more person my age and one more person your age?"

"Yeah," said Russ, smiling a little. He and Brooklyn had stuck together all day the day before, and he was a little nervous to be on his own. He was sure he'd be fine though. After all, he wasn't shy by any means and could ramble on about anything, so he figured it shouldn't be too bad.

"That sounds like a wonderful plan," said Effie. "Just make sure it doesn't get too big. You want to be with people you can trust, and a large group might attract a lot of attention from tributes who aren't as friendly."

"Okay, Effie," Brooklyn said, smiling sweetly. 'We'll be careful."

Russ cleaned off his plate and smiled in thanks at the Avox who cleared it away to… the kitchen? Where was the kitchen, anyway? All the food must come from somewhere, but Russ didn't remember seeing a kitchen anywhere. Huh.

"Alright, come on, you two. I won't have you be late to training!"

Russ stood up, pushed in his chair, and hurried to the elevator. Once he had joined Brooklyn and Effie inside, the escort pushed the bottom button to the ground floor. She waved goodbye to them before heading off to wherever escorts and mentors went during the day while their tributes were training.

"Well, this is it," Brooklyn said as the pair entered the training room. "Good luck!"

Russ nodded. "Yeah, same to you."

Brooklyn wandered off, heading towards the fifteen-year-old District Eight tribute, Dinah. Russ, meanwhile, was unsure where to go, so he finally settled on the traps station, where the sixteen-year-old from Eleven, Thoreau, had just begun working. Russ approached him, waving cheerfully.

"Hey!"

Thoreau looked up briefly. "Hello." His eyes fell back to his trap.

"I'm Russ."

"Thor," said the other boy without looking up.

"What're you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm building a trap."

"It looks good so far," said Russ. "You know, I saw a man carrying something like that once. Back home in District Twelve. He was headed towards the fence and seemed like he was trying to be sneaky. I don't think he saw me watching him. I was kind of young, but now that I think about it, I think he was using that trap to catch animals. I'm pretty sure that's illegal in District Twelve, but he was doing it anyway. I hope he never got caught; our peacekeepers are pretty nasty…"

Russ trailed off. Peacekeepers were the reason his entire family was gone; his parents, his five siblings, all except Grandma. His family wasn't doing any harm. Yet, they were gone.

Don't think about that, Russ thought. Why did the cookie go to the hospital? Because he felt crummy.

Russ laughed a little. He thought about telling the joke to Thor, but the other boy was glancing at him with a frown.

"Look, I'm trying to focus here. So either shut up and work on your own trap or leave."

"Oh…Sorry." With that, Russ left Thor behind to be in peace. He really doubted Thor would want to ally with him and Brooklyn now, so there really wasn't much point in staying around. Russ was disappointed, but hopefully there would be a chance to meet someone else who'd be willing to join his and Brooklyn's alliance.

Russ strolled over to the fire starting station, where Everett from Ten was concentrating on his pile of kindling. His body seemed awkward sitting cross-legged on the floor, as he was probably around six feet tall and fairly skinny.

"Hi," said Russ, sitting down near Everett after gathering his own kindling. "I'm Russ. You're Everett, right?"

Everett's head snapped up, his dark brown eyes widening with alarm.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I scare you?"

The other boy quickly shook his head.

"Okay, good. Have you ever built a fire before?" Everett didn't look up, but he did give what Russ was fairly sure was a small nod. "I have. District Twelve gets pretty cold in the winter, so my grandma and I build fires in our wood stove. Sometimes we use it for cooking, but mostly we just use it for heat. Grandma's getting kind of old, so it's my job to collect firewood and her's to tend to the fire."

Russ rambled on. He was sure he could talk about his grandmother and home for hours if he was given a chance. Everett didn't reply beyond anything besides a nod, but he didn't tell Russ to be quiet like Thor had, so Russ continued talking. Eventually, he paused. He didn't know anything about Everett, so maybe it was foolish to consider him for the alliance, but he seemed trustworthy.

"Hey, my district partner and I are forming an alliance. We want two or three more people to join us. Would you be interested?"

Everett froze, his eyes widening once again, as if he had seen a ghost. Once he had recovered himself, he quickly shook his head and began putting out his small fire.

Russ deflated. "Oh… can I ask why not? Was it something I said?"

The boy from Ten wouldn't meet Russ's eyes. "I… I have to go." After making sure his fire was completely out, Everett jogged away, leaving Russ bewildered as to what exactly had happened.

The rest of the morning, Russ observed the tributes in the training room, trying to zone in on the perfect ally for himself and Brooklyn. Some of the tributes were loners like Everett and Thor, while others, such as the girls from Five and Six and the boys from Five and Seven were hanging around each other, chatting amiably. Russ even glanced at the careers, wondering if any of the volunteers were pushed out of the pack this year, but as near as he could tell, no one intended on straying from the Career pack that year. Besides, he doubted any of them would be interested in allying with two kids from District Twelve anyway.

Eventually, the bell rang for lunch, and Russ received a tray full of food from an Avox before taking a seat at one of the tables to wait for Brooklyn. He finally spotted her, just now getting into the line for lunch, talking animatedly to the girl from Eleven standing behind her. As she carried her tray towards Russ, he waved at her, and she offered him a grin.

"Hey, Russ! This is Ali from District Eleven! She's interested in joining us, and she said Apple from District Three might want to join, too, hopefully."

"Really?" Russ asked, pleased that Brooklyn had been having better luck than he had.

"I don't know if she'll want to for sure," said Ali, "but I was talking to her yesterday, and we really got along, so hopefully I left an impression on her. It'd be great to work with all three of you. It's nice to meet you, by the way."

Russ beamed. "You too!"

"Have you had any luck?" Brooklyn asked Russ as she sunk her spoon into her smooth pile of mashed potatoes.

"No," Russ said, frowning a little. "No one I talked to or saw seemed interested, and a lot of people were already talking to each other. I think alliances are forming really fast. I know just because someone was talking to another tribute doesn't mean they were allying together, but I remembered what Effie said about making alliances too large so I thought I'd talk to you first."

"That's okay," Brooklyn said. "Hopefully Apple will join, and if not, we should be okay with just three people."

Russ nodded, feeling his worry ease away. He had found a solid alliance, and it didn't matter that it was with two fourteen year old girls. Age didn't matter as much as heart and determination, at least not to Russ. As long as they were willing to work together and push through, maybe they had a chance.

* * *

 **Avery Hayley, 16, District Five Male**

 _Oodlestroodle_

When Avery came out to the kitchen, the first thing he heard was the slightly shrill voice of his escort. It was hard not to hear Belphoebe, who was almost always talking. Silex and Akila looked awkward but didn't interrupt her.

"Oh!" she squeaked, "Here's us on vacation! Oh, it was lovely. We went on a cruise in the beautiful ocean bordering District Four. We even got to visit a beach, oh, Louisa just loved that. She was just the sweetest little girl, oh, look at that little polka dot swimsuit! Oh, Guin and I just loved that. She was such a well-dressed little one, that Louisa. My goodness, her mothers certainly had good taste! My my, that's when Constantine was just a little baby, look at him! So happy to be with Mama. My oh my do they grow up fast." She showed off another picture from her stack. "Here they are now. That's my oldest, Marley, and Louisa, she's pregnant now, can you believe it?" her voice took on a new excitement. "Guin and I are going to be grandmothers! And there's Constantine, of course, a full family." She paused for a second and SIlex took the opportunity to change the subject to something that mattered.

"So, how are you guys feeling about training? Everything going alright?"

"Yeah, I'm alright," Iris said, and Avery nodded in agreement. He found it hard to focus in big groups of people, and much preferred to be one-on-one with people. He liked talking to Silex alone and found that he learned much better that way. Silex had some pretty good advice and seemed to have Avery on the right path to have a good shot at winning. Avery liked to be optimistic, and he wasn't about to let that side of him wither away in the face of adversity. He was going to tackle it head-on and use his positivity to win the crowds and win. But to do that, he was going to need at least one ally.

"Have you been diversifying stations or focusing on one aspect?"

"Oh, I'm trying to learn as much as I can!" Avery said. "Yesterday I did a lot of work on survival stations. I started with fire-building because that seemed to be the easiest, and it wasn't too bad but it was a lot harder than I thought it would be. It's easy when you have a match, of course, and it's not too bad when you have flint but if you don't have any of that, it can be tricky. It's funny that you have to blow on it to get it started because usually people blow air on fires to put them out…" Even in the bigger groups, Avery just had a lot to say. Belphoebe looked bored and Iris was starting to look annoyed, probably because Avery said most of the same things in different words that evening at dinner. Iris and Akila left the car to strategize before Avery was done explaining the many unlikely challenges he found when he was trying to paint camouflage. When Avery paused in his explanation, Silex spoke up again, trying to get his tribute back on track.

"Do you have plans for today?"

Avery nodded, smiling brightly. "Mhm! Today I want to find an ally and keep learning as much as I can! I want to know as much as possible so that if I get in a bind, I'll have a whole toolbelt of solutions just waiting to be unleashed! I want to be the best survivalist in the Arena, but just in case I'm not, I want to have someone really smart that'll help me out. So I wanna hit as many different stations as I can and talk to as many different tributes as I can-"

"Avery. That sounds like a good strategy, but remember to stay focused, okay?"

"Focused. Of course! I've been spending a bunch of time at all kinds of different stations!"

"Yes, and that's good, but…" Silex sighed. "Have you been paying close attention to what the trainers are saying?"

"Of course!"

"Do you remember their advice? You can't let your mind wander."

Avery flushed, slightly ashamed. He had been known to be a daydreamer back home. It was just kind of a habit at this point. "I'm trying not to."

"That's a good boy. Now, we should be on our way down there." Silex stood up and Avery did the same, wrapping a hand around the green pendent on his token, his sister's necklace. He was doing this for her more than anyone else. He just wanted to get back home to Maureen.

Iris and Akila soon joined them by the elevator and the District Five group went down to the Training Center together, ready to begin their second day.

Today, the speech from the Head Trainer was much shorter, as the tributes knew what to do by that point.

They released the tributes to train, and Avery immediately went to the edible plants station. The berries were colorful, so Avery thought that maybe the colors would keep him focused.

However, the vibrant colors on the screen just caused his mind to wander some more. Suddenly, he was up in the clouds, walking on air, surrounded by giant, floating berries. They bounced off of his finger tips like little balls, flying through the bright, blue sky. He was no longer in the dreary, gray Hunger Games, he was in the colorful, fluffy world up above the sky! Avery was smiling widely as he imagined hitting the big, colorful balls back and forth with Maureen and his best friend Lauree. Nobody was worried about starving, nobody was worried about death, he just got to enjoy his friends.

"Y'okay?" a voice snapped Avery out of his daydream. When he looked over, he saw the kind face of the boy from District Seven. His brown eyes looked genuinely concerned for Avery, even though he was smiling. "You seem a bit out of it."

"Yeah, I'm fine." Avery couldn't help getting frustrated. He didn't mean to zone out like he did, and he knew that Silex would be disappointed if he kept doing this. "Thanks though. It's just easy to drift off here, y'know?"

"Yeah, I get it. I guess the best way to stay focused is by keeping your eyes on the prize."

"Right. The prize." The prize was not dying, which sounded good to Avery. He didn't mention that out loud, though. After all, Rowan seemed nice but they barely knew each other.

"It can be hard though. It feels like most of this stuff isn't really that important. I suppose we won't realize just how important it is just until we're there. Then we'll say, 'damn, glad I paid attention in training,' right?."

"Yeah, of course!" Avery said, staying optimistic. He would learn a lot of every skill and he would live long enough to use most all of it. He couldn't bear to think about the price he would pay if he didn't. He couldn't afford moment his mind went there, he'd be doomed. He was going to stay positive, no matter what! That was what he was known for. He couldn't let that shatter now of all times, here of all places! In the face of adversity, Avery's positive attitude was his best weapon.

Rowan gave a well-meaning smile. It was pretty cute. He went back to working the berry test, so Avery did the same. He found himself watching Rowan's screen more than his own. It was more fun to watch someone do this test than actually do it. Rowan was really good at this test, and it was satisfying to see the green screen telling him that he got it correct. Much more satisfying than the blaring red and skull and crossbones that came up when Avery chose wrong and "died."

It didn't take long for Rowan to notice that he was being watched, as he gave Avery a side-eye. It wasn't a mean side-eye, exactly, in fact Rowan looked more amused than anything. Avery flushed a little bit. He didn't mean to seem like he was creeping or anything, he was just interested.

"Avery, right? I'm Rowan."

"That's right," Avery said with a small smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too!" Rowan put out a hand and Avery shook it. "Are you still looking for allies?"

Avery immediately perked up. This was a great chance for him to score a strong ally. He'd noticed Rowan the previous day when they were both at the axe station. Rowan knew what he was doing, of course, because he was from District Seven. Avery didn't stick around long enough to talk to him that day, though, soon realizing that a heavy weapon like an axe was probably not for him.

"No- I mean, no I don't have allies, not no I'm not looking for allies, I am looking for allies because I don't have any yet. I talked to a couple tributes but those ones didn't seem so keen on it. But yeah, I said no but that's not what I meant. I meant no I don't have allies, which would mean that, in answer to your question, yes, I am still looking."

Rowan gave him a blank look until he was done, then broke out into a big smile, laughing a bit. "Alrighty then! Well, I was talking to Milo the Silo from District Nine. We definitely want to ally but I'm sure he wouldn't be mad to have a third member. You'd be a good fit. What do you say?"

Avery beamed. "I'd be honored!"

Rowan grinned back at him. "Great! We should try to diversify as much as possible, so we have a broad scope of skills. How about we meet up for lunch so you can meet Milo?"

"Yeah, right, sounds good!" Avery got up to leave. It seemed that Rowan had the whole edible plants thing well under control.

"Great! See you then!" Rowan said, giving him a small salute.

Avery gave a brief wave and headed over to the station for building shelters. Now he was three times as determined to learn. He didn't want to let his allies down, after all! Avery was in a particularly good mood as he learned how to build shelter, imagining him building a shelter for his allies, both of whom were amazed at his expertise.

Avery kept working and learning until the lunch bell rang. This time, though, he wasn't nervous because he had people to eat with. He had allies, good allies at that, skilled allies that would help each other in the Games.

Together, there would be nothing that they couldn't do. Avery was sure of it.

* * *

 **Devon Steele, 17, District Six Male**

 _ellisadara_

Devon was used to eating to lunch alone.

Even back home in District Six, he ate alone. He kept his head down and did his work. Sometimes when he was in elementary school, he would eat with Jayce. Jayce was his best friend, probably the only person that understood Devon and laughed at his jokes. When they were younger, they attended the same school. Jayce was an outcast like Devon. She was the wealthiest person in their area, which made a lot of people wary of her. Devon didn't mind, though. She was nice. Even if she stuck out like a sore thumb. People avoided her, and they avoided him. It was no wonder they were friends.

Since Devon started working, though, they've barely seen each other. Jayce didn't have to work like Devon did; unlike her friend, she had both parents and a good sum of money. Devon's family was poor, and his mother had passed away in childbirth with his brother, so they didn't have such luxuries. Devon never saw his father, who was always out working. When he was home, he usually didn't care much to talk to his two sons. He worked an average factory job. Devon had to step up into the role left by his mother. He had to cook, clean, manage finances, shop, and, most importantly of all, watch over Kaye.

Kaye had so much potential. He was teeming with it. He was smart, he was bright and friendly, he had the potential to do something with himself. Every media outlet had been reporting news on President Rutilus's rule of Panem, including the construction of Universities in District Three. Devon had never heard of a University, but apparently it was more school, particularly in a specialized craft. Apparently it would be open to smart people from every District. Apparently they could travel to a new District and get out of this crackhead place. Supposedly going to more school would open up more jobs and opportunities to make more money.

Whatever it was, Devon was sure that Kaye could go there someday. He was so bright. Sometimes he slacked off, though, and didn't live up to that potential. Porter never cared enough to check up on him, but Devon certainly did. Devon put some pressure on Kaye, who sometimes would have rather messed around with his friends than completed his school work punctually. Devon did everything to ensure that he didn't get away with putting off his work. He couldn't afford it. Devon was smart, but he was getting too old to make it there. Besides, he was already on the road to a promising job, working part-time as an apprentice to a mechanic. He was on the road to something bigger than his father, something bigger than most. As good as Devon was aiming, though, Kaye had the potential to go so much farther. Going to District Three would be amazing for Kaye. He had a real shot at this, at improving his future! Devon was not going to let him waste it.

Devon was used to keeping his head down and doing his work. He received his pay for working with the mechanic. That was the routine, and it wasn't about to change just because he was here. Devon kept his head down and did his training. Most people avoided him as he had a pretty intimidating aura about him. Those that did dare approach him were quickly scared off. Devon learned what he could quietly and efficiently, just as he knew how. He received his lunch from the escort with a curt nod of acknowledgment and sat at a table.

Nerrah sat with the girl from District Five. They were talking quietly, possibly planning something. Devon didn't really care. He and Nerrah decided immediately that they wanted to be mentored separately. They were both determined to win, and didn't want to get in each other's way. Noa seemed slightly intimidated that they would have to mentor both tributes differently, but they'd never been one to shy away from a challenge. They wanted to bring home another Victor, change Six's reputation one person at a time.

Devon looked around. Since he was alone, he took a minute to observe some of the other groups. The Careers seemed to have some tension, but they always did. These are groups of cold, devious people that weren't afraid to sabotage each other in order to win. Devon wasn't ready to kill innocents like they were. As cold as he may have seemed, he wasn't about to stoop to that level.

Devon shovelled the food into his mouth slowly. He didn't want to fill himself up too much, that wouldn't sit well when he went to use a weapon. He noticed the pair from twelve eating with the girl from District Eleven and the girl from District Three. Apple's District partner, Marco, ate by himself. Some other pairs of tributes were scattered throughout the room, and Devon took note of each of them. As soon as Devon was done eating, he got back to work.

As he was walking out to the axe station, Devon's gaze went up to where Celestia and the other downing shots. Head Gamemakers were sitting. He kept his eye on them, trying to figure out what kind of mood they were in. He wasn't sure if that would affect him at all, but it was interesting to him. Celestia didn't show much emotion ever, but her team looked pretty tipsy. Some of them were talking and giggling, some were swaying, some were calling out for more drinks. Devon's attention was stolen just then by a small glimmer beside the balcony. He blinked, but the glimmering didn't go away.

Devon was suddenly quite interested. It seemed that there was some kind of forcefield there. Probably to protect the Gamemakers from tribute gone rogue. Devon had never thought of that before, but it made total sense in hindsight. Why wouldn't there be a force field? Devon was curious. He wanted to know how it worked, who invented it, whose idea it was. He supposed he'd have to ask Noa and their escort, Sayaka, if either of them knew. Devon looked up at the forcefield for a while, entranced by the shimmery nature. He was half-tempted to throw something up there just to see how the forcefield looked when the object hit. He resisted the temptation, though, as that would definitely paint him as a troublemaker.

Devon went to the axe station and picked up a weapon. He had been doing a mix of sparring with a real human trainer and practicing with the holographic simulation. The technology was still somewhat new, but tested how Devon did in combat with a wide range of weapons. He had to learn to stay focused on dodging arrows and spears flying at him until he could get close enough to the glowing orange humanoid shape to strike it with his axe. The first couple times he tried it didn't go very smoothly. He wasn't very good at multitasking, dodging and attacking with the right technique. Through more practice with the axe specialist, the actions were getting more natural.

It seemed that each trainer he worked with was surprised at his skill. Guess they didn't expect a tribute like him, a mechanic's apprentice from District Six, to be any good at any weapon, let alone one as heavy as an axe. It had taken him a while for the trainers to respect him, especially considering he was so terrible with axes at first, but he was stubborn enough that he did not give up, no matter how many people told him to try something lighter, like a sword or knives. Devon wanted to use an axe, so he was going to keep working until he could use it, no matter what.

He couldn't help but feel slightly smug. After all, he'd proved them wrong, just like he'd always done when he was underestimated. Devon knew what to do for himself and when he had his sights set, there was no changing them, not from anyone or anything.

Devon gave a small smirk to the trainer in front of him.

"Focus on your technique sometimes. Remember what you learned about clean, quick kills. Are you ready?"

Devon gave a small grin, which caused the trainer to scratch the back of her neck nervously. Devon didn't understand why, but he just nodded.

"Bring it," he said. He was ready for whatever was to come.

* * *

 **Katarina Hubert, 16, District Ten Female**

 _youngpatriot_

From the time she entered the training center on, Katarina had been very focused. She had spent half the previous day with survival stations, trying to solidify a few basic skills. The rest of the time, she had spent experimenting with different blades, from throwing knives to katanas, to see which type and method would kill someone the fastest. She sought out the advice of the trainers, trying to learn the skills that would help her fend off attackers in the arena.

Whenever Katarina thought about killing someone, she felt a bit sick. Taking another person's life certainly wasn't on the top of her list of things she couldn't wait to do. She wasn't a career, someone who volunteered for this, and possibly even looked forward to the bloodshed they would face and even commit themselves in the arena. Still, killing was what the Capitol wanted. As much as she hated to think about it, Katarina knew the sponsors would be attracted to active tributes, those who made the Games interesting. While some tributes tried to hide the whole Games and avoid conflict, that strategy wasn't the one Katarina wanted to go with, as the Capitol found those tributes boring more often than not.

On the other hand, Katarina wasn't exactly a born, blood-craving killer either. Killing tributes wasn't going to be like dissecting animals like the ones her dad butchered back home. Tributes weren't livestock. They were ordinary teenagers, just like her, with families and friends and possibly even lovers back home who cared about them. However, if she wanted the best chances of making it home, killing at least a couple of her fellow tributes was inevitable. Ideally, when she killed, it would primarily be in the middle of the night, while the tributes were asleep, in order to cause the least amount of pain as possible. If attacked herself, Katarina hoped she could use her thickly-built body to her advantage in a fight. She knew guilt would likely eat at her for the rest of her life, but Katarina would rather feel the guilt of becoming a murderer than not feel anything at all because she was dead.

Katarina had finished lunch early on the second day after eating alone. Her district partner, Everett, avoided everyone as though they all had an infectious disease, even Katarina, though she didn't mind. She had actually gotten used to Everett's quietness and was relieved he didn't give her a reason to be wary of him, at least not more so than any other tribute. Because no one else had joined her at her table, Katarina had no reason to feel guilty for returning to the throwing knives station.

As she prepared to throw, Katarina made sure to take her time, making sure she was standing exactly as she was supposed to. After a few throws, Katarina caught sight of someone watching her out of the corner of her eye. She lowered her arm and turned around to find the tall thirteen-year-old from District Seven. Her shoulder length dark hair was down, and her bangs nearly reached her brown eyes. She was doing nothing to hide the fact that she was clearly watching Katarina.

"You're pretty good with those knives," the younger girl said. "I'm Pyra."

"Thanks. I'm Katarina."

Pyra nodded. "Do you mind if I join you? Maybe I could pick up a few pointers. I'm a quick learner, I promise. I'm at the top of my class in school back home."

Katarina shrugged. What was the harm in helping out her younger competition? After all, her mother, a former nurse who volunteered at District Ten's rundown clinic twice a week, had always said that teaching others was one of the best ways to sharpen one's own skills. Katarina had been shadowing both parents in their occupations ever since they were little, and as she wanted to be a first responder one day, she tried to learn everything she could from her mom. Fiona was a fabulous teacher, with her skills improving with each passing year of experience.

"Sure," Katarina replied, and began showing the younger girl the technique she had learned over the past twenty-four hours. The first handful of tries, Pyra faltered, her throw clumsy and awkward, but no worse than Katarina would expect of a thirteen-year-old girl.

"You're feet are too close together," Katarina explained after a few knives missed the stationary target by a couple of feet. "Spread them out a little."

Pyra nodded, zoned in on her target. She took Katarina's advice, and her next few throws came the slightest bit closer to hitting their mark. Over the course of an hour, the girls took turns throwing their knives at the targets, with Katarina demonstrating and offering strict constructive criticism and Pyra doing her best to mimic. By the end of their practicing, Pyra had actually managed to hit the target a few times, even if the knife always pierced a nonfatal area, such as an arm or a leg.

"So, maybe weapons aren't my strong suit. But I did learn a lot in such a short amount of time, don't you think?" The young teen was smiling proudly, and Katarina couldn't help but smile back.

"Sure. You are a quick learner."

Pyra grinned. "Thanks. Besides, everyone has different strengths. I'm better with logical and academic tasks myself. I did the plant identification test earlier with a score of ninety-seven percent. I also built a fire in four minutes and forty-eight seconds on my first timed attempt, which the trainer said was better than average."

Pyra was obviously bragging, but Katarina found herself not really minding all that much. If she was Pyra's age, she might have done the same thing. Pyra didn't want to be underestimated, and being one of the youngest in the competition, she could easy be at risk for being overlooked.

"That's good. I've most been focusing on blades and haven't been to many survival stations yet."

"Yeah, me too. Plant identification and fire starting were the only survival stations I've gone to. I've spent the rest of the time trying to learn weapons, and I've had the most success working with you. Also, I have been looking for an older, stronger tribute to ally with." Pyra paused, then quickly added. "Not to protect me, of course. I can handle myself. I just think I could work better with an older tribute than one my own age."

Katarina raised her eyebrows, knowing what was likely coming next. "Oh? And you're wanting me as that ally?"

"Yes, actually. We could balance each other out. You with your weapon skills, and me with my survival skills. I know a lot about not only plant identification, but also how to find water and build a shelter."

Katarina hesitated. She wasn't sure if allying with a thirteen-year-old was her best choice, but she hadn't exactly found anyone else, and many of the tributes were already in groups, or seemed to prefer being alone. She did want an ally, though, and time was running out. However, if what Pyra was saying was true, the younger girl had skills Katarina wasn't as sure about.

"Why don't we hang around each other for the rest of the day? That way I can see your skills in action and come to a conclusion."

Pyra nodded. "Okay. You won't be disappointed. Follow me."

The younger girl lead Katarina to the plant identification station. On the way, she explained how to find water in environments where the water source was not obvious.

"Another important thing you can do is follow signs of animal life, such as tracks, scat and flattened grass and plants, because where there are animals, there is likely to be something to drink."

Katarina nodded, slightly impressed at how much Pyra knew for her age. The girls arrived at the plant identification station, where Pyra turned on the large hologram screen. With agile fingers, she efficiently sorted plants into their proper categories at a pace that was faster than Katarina suspected she could accurately do the test at. When she was done, she had completed the test with a score of ninety-eight percent in a time of three minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

"Not bad," Katarina said Pyra turned away from the screen. "Mind if I try?"

"Go ahead," said Pyra, and Katarina moved forward to restart the test. Despite her best efforts, she moved at a slower pace than her companion, and ended up scoring an eighty-six percent with a time of five minutes and twenty-one seconds.

Pyra grinned. "Nice!"

"You know," Katarina said, coming to a decision, "I'll have to speak with my mentor, but I think we'll make a good team. As long as I clear things with Abi, I'd be willing to be your ally.

Pyra's eyes light up. "Awesome! Sounds like a plan."

Katarina smiled. Hopefully, the plan would be a good one.

* * *

 _ **Authors' Note:**_ _We did it! We updated twice in June! Even if it is the last day of June, haha. :)_ **Happy summer, woop woop! Thanks for all the support and reviews, I'm really glad to see more people taking an interest in this story again :) If you want to send the tributes from this story some fan mail asking questions and such, you can ask on prophetic-duck-drawings . tumblr . com and we'll get to them. If you haven't read a Celtic story with fanmail before, you'll see what I mean when we get around to answering the first ask. I think that's all I have to say, though. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next up, day 3 of trainings and private sessions! See ya then!**


	15. Training Day Three

**Training Day 3**

 **Marco Maudslay, 18, District Three Male**

 _Rockafansky_

Marco was up before Candy even called. He had awakened from a feverish nightmare, and from there decided he wouldn't want to go back to sleep anyways. Even taking his time showering, brushing his teeth, and getting dressed wasn't enough to prevent his entrance to the sitting area from being awkward. It didn't help that Marco was just plain awkward to begin with.

Candy was reading a magazine on the couch. She was the only one awake, though. He probably should have let her know he was there instead of just standing behind her awkwardly waiting for her to notice him. When she did notice him, she jumped from her place on the couch and gasped.

"Oh my! You startled me!" It was pretty easy for Marco to forget just how towering he was, and he realized too late that it was probably quite a surprise to look up and see him there. Now he just felt even more awkward than he had before.

"Sorry," he said, awkwardly holding his hands behind his back.

"It's not polite to startle your elders like that," she scolded him, causing him to sigh. It was very much like Candy to scold him for something so pointless. It was as if he were three again, his grandmother telling him and Bella not to jump on the living room furniture.

" _But Grandma, the floor is lava!" Bella would chirp, giggling, and Marco would giggle too._

" _Well, you can avoid the lava without bouncing on my nice couch."_

 _The twins would exchange a look, but they both knew that they loved their grandmother too much to continue making her unhappy._

It was just like that, though. Back when Marco's grandmother still had her sense. Now that they were older, she grew with them, and she was slowly losing it. It began with small things, like forgetting what she had come into the kitchen to do, to momentarily forgetting the name of an old family friend that she'd had a conversation with in the market. Then, it got worse. She forgot the name of the twins' mother. Once, she'd forgotten that the twins weren't her children, they were her grandchildren. It was scary, and even though the twins were old enough to take care of themselves, Marco still felt the fear of a child when he thought about his grandmother becoming delusional because of dementia.

After all, Bella was brilliant. She was beautiful and she was brilliant. She had a real chance of getting into those Universities that were being built under Presient Rutilus. Her dream job had gone from princess to veterinarian to electrician to nurse to dentist back to nurse to doctor to engineer, finally ending at the aspiration to be a biomedical engineer. And it was a very realistic goal for her. She was brilliant, even in the District full of geniuses she was considered brilliant. She was the top of her class in every subject.

Marco's job aspirations went from knight to electrician (he was inspired by his sister) to stay-at-home dad to factory worker, where it flatlined. That was when Marco realized that a factory worker was just about all he could be. It wasn't that he had any kind of condition like his coworker Kayleb, who suffered dyslexia and dyscalculia. He was just stupid. He just couldn't keep up. He had always been teased because of it, which was when he started getting into physical fights. He was just so tired of his twin having to jump to his defense. He couldn't keep up with spoken debates, but he could whack them in the face. That was what he was good at. If he were from a Career District, he would have been golden. But he was from District Three.

Now, though, he changed his trajectory. Now his job aspirations went from knight to electrician to stay-at-home-dad to factory worker, to Victor.

If he were a Victor, he wouldn't have to worry about working those long, terrible hours. If he were a Victor he would have more money than he could ever want. He could try to get some kind of help, or medicine, for his Grandma, anything that could work. If he were a Victor, there would be so much he could do. After all, this was what he was built for. It wasn't by any means out of his reach. He could get it, all he had to do was put in the hard work and reach for the stars.

Maybe being reaped wasn't… _Totally_ bad. It was bad, of course, it was very bad. It was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to him. But he could put some kind of positive spin on it. After all, Victory wasn't a _totally_ bad thing. At least there were some things that made it worth it.

Marco sat and ate his breakfast as his mind wandered. Candy didn't say anything, and Marco didn't know what to say. The next person to enter the kitchen/sitting room area was Marco's mentor, Geno. Marco's mentor was close to forty, but just as involved in his tributes as ever.

"Good morning," Geno said, putting in an order for breakfast so naturally, like it was routine. He took a seat across from Marco.

"Morning," said Marco. He didn't really know what else to say. Sure, they could probably talk strategy, but Marco didn't have any questions or anything so far.

"Are you ready for your third day of training?" Geno asked, thanking the Avox that delivered his breakfast. Marco could hear the small Candy in the back of his head scolding Geno for thanking an Avox. They took that so seriously around here. Luckily, Candy had gone back to reading her magazine and didn't notice the small action of kindness.

"Yeah, I think I am." Marco didn't mind training, really. He worked well with his hands and could imitate the motions for knot-tying well. He loved the hand-to-hand station, learning the mechanics and strategies behind fist-fights was interesting, and many of the different ways of striking and defense came exceptionally easy to Marco. He was also a pro with heavy weapons, like maces. The nice thing about the mace was that there wasn't all that much strategy, the only prerequisites for using the mace were the strength to swing it around and the stomach to face the consequences.

"And you still don't want any allies?"

"That's right, Sir," Marco said, chewing slowly. He knew that he didn't have to be that polite all the time, but it just felt right. He'd started out extremely uncomfortable around Geno, who was totally intimidating to him. Their first conversations were extremely strained and awkward. Geno was very nice, though. He reminded Marco of his friend and coworker Kayleb. He understood what it was like to be outcasted because he wasn't smart. He was very patient and, since he wasn't used to having a tribute with strength like this, unwilling to give up on Marco. He was pretty gentle, understanding, and strategic. Soon, Marco started to warm up to him, and now they were on surprisingly good terms.

"I see. I had two allies in my Games. Both of them were probably seen as weights that held me down." He heaved a sigh, staring at the table and pushing eggs around his plate. "Orlick was young, fourteen, and fiery. Rebellious, almost. Too rebellious to be allowed to live. I should have been killed too, but I wasn't."

That lit up a lightbulb in Marco's head. He remembered watching those Games for school. "They called you the… The Squirrel, didn't they?"

Geno's dark blue eyes lit up with laughter. "The Lucky Rabbit, actually."

Marco's face went red. Of course he couldn't even remember something like that. Geno had a gentle, paternal look to him, though.

"It's alright." He could obviously see the frustration on Marco's face. After all, the boy from Three couldn't hide his emotions at all, not even a little bit. "It's a really obscure Games now."

"Yeah, I guess." Marco still felt discouraged.

"Anyways, my second ally was the girl from District Five. She was… Pretty hysterical though. She was killed quickly. That was the second time I should have died. Zayne choked."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Those are the ones you remember most," Geno said quietly. "The ones that die for you."

Marco nodded. "I'm not the friendliest."

"That's a good thing here. I promise." Geno gave a reassuring smile.

"Apple's going with three other tributes," Marco said. "I saw them together yesterday. Why would she do that if there wasn't any advantage to it?"

"Because none of them are strong enough to do it on their own. You are."

Marco couldn't help feeling good at that. A smile spread across his face. "You think so?"

Geno smiled back, "Mhm."

"Thanks Geno," Marco said.

"Of course." Mentor and tribute ate breakfast together, in silence. It was a comfortable silence, though, not an awkward silence like was between him and Candy earlier. It wasn't long before Candy got up to wake up Apple and Argon, who soon joined them at the table. The District partners didn't interact very much before Geno and Marco went to sit on the comfortable couches in front of the television. They watched some mindless Games specials while Marco ran through the routine for his private session in his mind.

He just had to do what he knew he could do and continue to play the game if he wanted to win.

Marco Maudslay, the Ninety-Sixth Victor. It really had a nice ring to it.

* * *

 **Rowan Axton, 17, District Seven Male**

 _maddyodair_

Rowan and his mentor didn't exactly see eye-to-eye. Adler and Johanna were a good team, mostly because they were both extremely angry and snarky people. AKA, totally the opposite of Rowan. Sure, Rowan liked to joke around, but he would never want to hurt anyone. Johanna and Adler just didn't stop. They were both rude, especially to the Capitolites.

Then again, their escort Helena was just as bad. She was what Rowan would call an eyesore, but he was too polite to mention it as he didn't want to hurt her feelings. Helena didn't give a damn about what she said, which only caused conflict with Adler and Johanna. There were many, many screaming matches that happened between the three of them. Rowan hated it when this happened, but he could tell that this was a normal occurrence. Surely for the many years in which she had been escorting for this District, she had argued a countless number times with Adler and Johanna. Rowan hoped that not all of District 7's Victors were like this. He was sure they weren't, Kendal Beck seemed nice at least. He wasn't sure how much longer he could take these three bickering, though. It was really starting to get annoying, especially when Rowan just wanted advice and Adler was too annoyed to give it or pouting because Helena bitched at him about something or whatever. Rowan tried to be patient with his mentor, but it was getting hard to do that.

Rowan was lucky he was patient. He just did his best to ask his questions when Adler was not in a horrible mood. When Adler was pissed, Rowan just left him alone.

Even though Rowan was seventeen, both of the mentors seemed to believe that Pyra had a better chance than him, even though she was thirteen years old. They figured that just because Rowan was a jokester that didn't take it too far that he was less capable. Pyra was more than confident. She constantly talked about her accomplishments, her day in training, how she learned how to use a weapon and was talking to the girl from District Ten. She had no problem bragging about anything and everything she could. It was probably because of some need to fit in, some need to convince her mentors not to give up on her because of her age. But the more she bragged, the more Rowan was left out to dry. He couldn't just brag like that, it wasn't in his nature and he figured that nobody would really care.

However, he didn't think he was in too bad of a spot. After all, he had two solid allies, both of them skilled in different things and similar in personality to him, which would prevent bickering conflict like Rowan experienced every day on the seventh floor of the Tribute Building. He was confident in his alliance and his ability to get back to his home and his family and friends. However, he knew that to do that he'd have to get his mentor on his side. Johanna and Pyra were working together well enough, but Rowan had barely talked to his mentor. He just didn't know what to say to keep from pissing anyone off.

Rowan ate breakfast silently. Silence was better than the alternative, after all.

"So, do you know what you're going to do for your private Sessions?" Johanna asked.

"I do!" Pyra said proudly. "But I'm not going to say what in front of everyone, that would definitely be counterintuitive."

"What about you boy?" Adler asked flatly. Maybe he didn't think Rowan was serious enough to have thought about it, but this was Rowan's chance to prove that he was just as serious about living as Pyra was, even if he didn't seem it.

"Yes. I've been thinking about it a lot."

Adler raised an eyebrow but didn't ask him to tell in front of the others. The crew just ate in silence. Rowan thought that maybe they were going to get through a meal without any conflict, when Helena decided to open her mouth.

"District children, thinking, who would have thought?" she quipped, looking at her green nails, which matched the shamrock accessories on her green outfit. It clashed with her red hair and the accents of gold she wore, not to mention the white powder she always caked on her face.

"Our children are far smarter than your stupid dog people," Adler said.

"Excuse me!?" Helena said, looking up.

"At least we can keep it in our pants," Johanna said.

"What is that supposed to mean!?"

"It means that we don't hump anything that moves, unlike you! Who's your new man this month, you slut?" Adler asked.

"Excuse you!" She glared bullets at both mentors, but neither of them was going to buckle. "Who are you calling a slut!?"

"I bet you came onto this kid, didn't you?" Adler asked, gesturing to Rowan, who blushed, totally confused.

"What? No she didn't…"

"No, but why would you deny a teenage boy the opportunity to enjoy the gift of sex before sending him off to his grave?!"

"I'm not going to die," Rowan muttered, his face burning. "I'm going to win the Games."

"Sure you are," Johanna said, which made Rowan mad.

"I'm a strong person, I wrestled in school and I excel at long-distance running! I'm fit and you'd be ridiculous to count me out!" The table went into a silence. Rowan wasn't used to outbursting, so he just slid back into his seat. A hand on his shoulder made him look up, surprised. Even more surprising was the fact that it was Adler. He had a smile on his face, for the first time since they'd arrived in the Capitol.

"Now that's winner talk. That's the confidence I've been waiting to hear, Rowan."

That caused Rowan to smile a bit and nod. He wasn't always that confident, usually a follower as opposed to a leader. He was glad that his mentor was finally starting to get on his side, though, and if some fake confidence was what it took to get there, then Rowan was determined to fake it until he made it.

"Come on, kid," Adler said, standing up. "Let's go talk some strategy before you have to be down there."

"Oh, um, alright." This was the first time his mentor was making the effort to talk to him, and Rowan felt some pressure not to mess it up. He tried to put the joking, funny exterior behind his game face. The only way Adler was going to take him seriously was if he took himself seriously, which was definitely a challenge. However, if that would give him a better chance at getting back home to District Seven, he was willing to at least try. He had to try, he had to do everything to get back to where he belonged.

They had already lost their father, he couldn't stand the thought of his mother and sister losing him, too. That would be half of their family, gone. It would be so painful for them. Rowan didn't want them to lose him like they lost their father. He'd have to get back to them. Not to mention his friends. He didn't want to let Oakley and Linden suffer like that. He wanted nothing more than to be back with them, back home in District Seven. The more time went by, the more he itched to get back home.

"So, you said you've been thinking about your private session?"

"Yeah, but… Don't you want to know about my allies and that stuff?"

Adler shrugged. "Sure. You just have to realize that your allies can only take you so far before you're going to have to choose between them and you. You do know that, don't you?"

Rowan preferred not to think about that, but he realized it was a necessary reality. He gave a simple nod.

"Just remember that whoever's waiting for you, back home in the ugly mudhole, those people are more important than anyone here, are they not?"

Rowan swallowed hard. He tried not to think of Avery's kind nature and bright smile, or Milo's jokes that made all of them laugh until Rowan thought he could have cried. "They definitely are."

"Don't forget it." Adler sat back. "So, that's allies. Now, tell me about your private session strategy."

"Well… I was thinking of showing off my main weapon, axes. That's what I'm used to back home."

"That's usually the case," Adler sighed. "I used them myself, as did Johanna once she stopped faking weakness and actually did shit. Have you practiced them at all during training?"

"Yeah, I have."

"Good. Some tributes try to avoid it to keep from having a target on their backs, but realize that battling with axes is different than chopping down trees with them. Then they fuck themselves over in their Private Sessions because they look like a total moron not knowing how to kill."

"Yeah, it definitely is different," Rowan said, nodding. He'd paid special attention to the best places to strike for a kill and had practiced sparring with the weapon, where he would have to be quick with his feet as opposed to the precise, slow, powerful strikes he would use on a tree. He felt more than ready for his private sessions.

"Were you going to show hand-to-hand combat?"

"Um, not unless I had time."

"Just be careful. Don't want to be pegged as a one-trick pony."

"I won't." Rowan was glad to get some good advice from his mentor, and would be sure to listen to it well.

He was ready to prove that he wanted to win. After all, that was the first step to getting the title and making it back to his home.

* * *

 **Ares Hardy, 18, District Two Male**

 _Bjorn Ironhide_

Ares had total control of the pack, and he was soaking it all in. It was meant to be, after all. More often than not, the District Two male took the lead, and Ares didn't want to be any different. He didn't even have to fight for it. He had brought up his desire to lead at the parade, and no one had argued with him. Zircon, Ama, and Soren were laidback and non-confrontational, staying out of his way, and while Tay was certainly enthusiastic, she gave him the respect he expected and desired. Even Bliss stepped back, as loud and bitchy as she was. She didn't seem too pleased that Ares took the reins, but she was smart enough to keep quiet about it. Ares was surprised she had it in her. Maybe he shouldn't underestimate her.

Maybe. Or, more likely, he'd take out all these losers without a fight when the time came.

Ares planned to keep his pack together for as long as possible. There was strength in numbers, and even though he was capable on his own, he prefered the security of having five other people with him to take out the strongest competition before breaking up. As for the outer district tributes, they didn't stand a chance against Ares Hardy. He was going to be the strongest, most impressive victor since his mentor, Cato Bailor, who won the 74th Games. Stronger, even, as Ares had once beaten the forty-year-old victor when he visited the training center. Cato was confident in him, and rightly so. Ares was eager to join his mentor amongst the ranks of the most esteemed victors.

First though, he had to earn it. In a few days, he'd be in the arena, and that was when the fun could really begin. After spending two full days showing off his skills and observing his allies' talents, Ares wanted to have a little fun. With his allies spread out around the room, Ares decided to mess with some of the losers from the outer districts, hopefully even make some of them shit themselves if he was lucky.

Ares looked around, trying to zone in on one of the outer district tributes. He approached Everett first, who was working at the shelter station. As soon as the boy from Ten spotted the hulking Career, however, his eyes widened in terror and he dashed away like a rabbit being stalked by a fox. Ares smirked, amused at how easy it was to scare away a seventeen-year-old boy. How pathetic outer district tributes were. The higher the number, the more pitiful the tributes often were.

While Ares was pleased at his ability to intimidate tributes just by walking towards them, he was looking for someone a little bit more fun to mess with. Eventually, his eyes settled on a slender, older girl with ashen skin and long, wavy light brown hair, Iris from District Five. Today, she was alone, seemingly split up from any allies she may have had. The girl was currently working at the insect identification station, a task that seemed pointless to Ares.

"Hello," Ares greeted, giving Iris a charming smile fit for the king of the Career pack.

Her head turned rapidly in response. She stared at him for a moment, her brown eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and confusion. Finally, she returned his smile, even if hers was small and a bit wary. "Hi," she said.

"Insects, huh?"

"Yes," Iris replied, keeping her voice cheery and stable, not at all afraid like Ares imagined it would have been. "I'm trying to remember as I can, because stings and bites of many of them, especially the modified ones, are venomous, and I want to be able to treat them if they end up in the arena."

"Seems like a waste of time to me," Ares said.

Iris shrugged. "Maybe. I think it's important, though. You can only go so far with weapon skills. You want to give it a shot?"

Ares smirked. "Sure." He'd rock this stupid test and impress the shit out of this scrawny twig of a girl.

At least, that was the plan. As soon as he touched the hologram screen to begin, Ares felt lost. How was he supposed to tell a hornet from a tracker jacker or a harmless praying mantis from the Capitol's modified, venomous stinging mantis? Ares was fairly sure the Academy back home had an insect identification station, but no one ever used it. At least anyone of importance, such as Ares's rivals and friends, pushed it aside. In the end, the district two boy finished the test with a score of forty-four percent. When Iris attempted her next test, she managed to earn a score of eighty-seven. Hmph. Ares imagined it was because she had wasted around a half an hour on the dumb piece of shit.

Ares left after that, not wanting to spend anymore time on matching pictures of bugs to their names. He made his way back to the weapons, where he knew he would be dominate. He jumped from one weapon to the next, flocking to those that had the most tributes gathered around them. At each station he showed off a bit, putting all of his effort into hitting each target with near-perfect accuracy. Naturally, eyes were turned towards him as he demonstrated his skills. Some tributes looked terrified, probably anxious about the possibility of meeting him in the arena. A few stubborn ones ignored him, though. They probably thought they were so brave and tough, but Ares knew better. Once they were in the arena, all of these weaklings would be pissing their pants in fear.

The gong rang for lunch, and Ares went to join his pack for lunch.

"What did everyone do today?" Tay asked cheerfully as the six of them took their seats at the table.

"I frightened the shit out of the other tributes," Ares said.

"I just worked on my weapons of choice mostly," Zircon added.

Bliss nodded. "I did too. And I scared some outer district tributes as well."

"Well, as Tay knows, she and I tried out the agility course," Ama said. "That was pretty fun."

"It was!" Tay agreed. "I would definitely do it again if I got the chance. What about you, Soren?"

"I kicked ass," Soren said with a playful grin. "Everyone's asses. Even my own. Wait… that's not quite right."

At that, both Tay and Ama giggled a bit. Whatever. If Soren - and Ama and Tay for that matter - didn't want to take the Games seriously, then that was fine by Ares. Even better, really. It would just make Ares's job a whole lot easier. Not that he needed the help. Ares was going to win these games easily, no doubt about it. It was his destiny.

* * *

 **Maverick Nash, 14, District Eight Male**

 _David12341_

Mav was running out of time. All around him, other tributes had begun to find allies, or at least hanging out in small groups. Mav, meanwhile, still had no one.

Mav definitely wanted allies. His mentor, Anthony Tidwell of the Eighty-Eighth Hunger Games, highly suggested having them. Ant had allied with the girl from Three in his Games, Gidget, and even though she was brutally tortured and killed before Anthony could get to her in time, she was part of the reason he won. Anthony admitted his drive to avenge his ally had provided him with enough motivation to take the victory for himself.

Mav didn't want to be in the arena alone. He wasn't necessarily scared that he wouldn't have what it took to defend himself. He already had experience in self-defense, which is what had landed him in prison in the first place. Instead, Mav just wasn't used to being alone. To start now was a frightening idea to him, as much as he refused to admit it.

Mav didn't remember much of his past life. Three years ago, he had been living in an ordinary, middle class District Two home. He and his little sister, Dixie, were never interested in training, and their parents had never forced it upon them. Never worrying about being reaped because a total stranger was basically guaranteed to volunteer for any unwilling reaped teen was one of the advantages of living in a rich Career District. He and Dixie never had nightmares about being reaped like kids in other districts often did. How ironic it was, then, that Mav was here, about to show off his skills to a bunch of gamemakers with cold, judgmental eyes.

Despite having blurred memories, Mav knew his family cared about him. He and Dixie had been close growing up, and Mav could still remember his sister's light-hearted giggle. Despite his current situation, Mav didn't regret the actions he took to protect his family's shop. He knew he should, and the fact that he didn't horrified him. At the end of the day, a man was dead, and Mav had been sent to an adult prison miles away from home, with no idea what the future would be like once he had been set free.

Even in the District Eight prison, however, Mav hadn't been alone. He had Acadia, a girl two years older than himself that had been sentenced to four years in jail for stealing. She was getting out soon, while Mav was stuck. Well, he would have been stuck, if he hadn't been reaped. Anyway, Mav had known the older girl for three years, and she had become his friend. He was glad he had ended up with her as a cellmate rather than a creepy adult who was in for a lot worse crimes than stealing. Being able to talk to Acadia was probably what had kept Mav's spirits up when all else seemed lost.

That's what Mav needed now. He needed an Acadia. Someone he could fight off the loneliness of the arena. Mav wasn't one to talk much, but it would be nice to have someone there with him, to know that he wasn't alone in the fight of his life. Mav hoped he could have someone there for him in case he lost himself, in more ways than one.

However, the clock was ticking. Training was coming to a close, and while he had learned some survival skills and some basics with a knife, he was still allyless. His district partner, Dinah, was also solo, but she didn't seem like she had any interest in allying with anyone. She was incredibly quiet and shy, and when her mentor, Cecelia, had asked if they wanted to be mentored separately or together, Dinah had wanted to be alone.

Mav, meanwhile, had been on a search. He had observed many other tributes, hanging around them and having conversations if they were interested. Mav had tried to get a pretty good idea of who he might want to ally with. The group with the tributes from Twelve, Ali from Eleven, and Apple from Three seemed too large for him. The group consisting of Avery, Rowan, Milo was composed of friendly optimists, and while Mav wasn't necessarily unfriendly or a pessimist, he didn't see himself meshing well with them. He considered asking one of two pairs, either Pyra and Katarina or Iris and Nerrah, but both pairs were already established, and Mav couldn't help but feel like an intruder if he approached them, though maybe he still would try if he had no other options. There was, of course, the Career pack, but no way was Mav going to join them even if they let him in. Despite being from District Two, Mav didn't trust the older, intimidating tributes in the slightest.

That left him with only a few options; Marco from Three, Devon from Six, Mar from Nine, Everett from Ten, and Thoreau from Eleven. He had made sure to spend time working with each of them at the same station, at least for a few minutes, and out of all of them, Thoreau seemed like the best choice. He had worked with the older boy at the knives station, and Thor had been willing to talk to him. Mav had liked what he had seen, and felt like he could trust Thor. The boy seemed like a good companion, and Mav could see them working well together. Besides, for a boy from Eleven, he was fairly decent with throwing knives. As the bell for lunch rang, signalling the end of training, Mav spotted Thor sitting down to eat. He decided to just go for it. What harm could it do, after all?

Mav sat his tray down and took a seat next to Thor. "Hey. How's it going?"

"I'm fine. Yourself?"

"Alright."

The boys ate in silence for a few minutes, until Mav decided to speak up again. "Hey, I know we haven't spoken much, but time's running out. I was wondering if you were interested in allies."

Thor shrugged. "Depends on who's asking."

"What about me?"

Thor hesitated, taking a moment to bite into his food. "You do seem competent enough, for your age."

Mav nodded, perhaps a little too quickly. He bit his lip, hoping he wasn't seeming to eager. "I am. You can count on me to do my share, and more."

Mav debated telling Thor that he was a criminal, thrown in jail for murder. He decided against it though; he didn't want to scare Thor off by convincing him that he was a lunatic.

"Hm. I'll see," Thor said eventually. "Let me think about it, see your training score. If I think allying with you is the best move for me, I'll meet up with you in the bloodbath. Deal?"

Mav hesitated, if only for a second. He may have shot himself in the foot on this one, but he had a good feeling about Thor. He may not get another chance. His alliance may have been uncertain, but it was something. Right now, Thor was all he had. Really, there was only one answer Mav could give.

"Deal."

The pair shook hands. As they finished eating, not much was said. Mav was fine with the silence. Eventually, the head trainer rang the lunch bell to attract the tributes' attention.

"It is now time for the private sessions. We will start with the young man, followed by his district partner, in consecutive district order. Mr. Zircon Smith, you are up first. The rest of you can finish your meals and take a seat in the waiting area."

Bliss rose to her feet and followed the trainer back into the main room of the training center, her head held high in confidence. Mav took a few more bites of his food before tossing away his trash and heading to the waiting area. After ten minutes of sitting around, the monotone voice on the intercom called Bliss's name. This was going to be a long wait.

Oh well. Sitting around doing nothing might bore Mav to tears, but at least it wasn't prison. Whether he ended up dead or emerged as a victor, Mav would never have to go back to his dark, chilly cell again. To Mav, that was quite a relief. At this point, Mav would take anything over prison.

Even death.

* * *

 **Authors' note:** _We have reached the end of training! Woo hoo! :D Up next is private sessions. Hopefully, we'll have that out by the end of the month. Maybe. If we're lucky XD_ **I hope so… We're getting closer and closer to the Games, I hope we can just crank 'em out till we get to the Games! Thank you all for your lovely reviews and support so far, they really keep us going! :) Have a lovely evening, my friends!**


	16. Private Sessions

**Apple Grey, 18, District Three Female**

 _AmericanPi_

 _Take a deep breath,_ the girl from District Three thought as she watched her district partner disappear through the large metal doors on the way to his private session. _Think of it like it's a soccer game. You can do this. You have to, for yourself and your allies._

Her allies. Apple had given them her final word that she would be joining their alliance just this morning, and the smiles on their faces, namely fourteen-year-old Brooklyn's, was priceless. Apple was a bit concerned about getting attached to her three allies, but she had faith that the four of them would make a great team. Because of her love of sports, Apple was a team player. She knew that winners succeeded most often when they worked together, something Apple believed her alliance would do just fine. A good team was like a machine; each person had something positive to bring to the table. With a variety of skills, Apple knew her alliance had a stronger chance of tackling anything they came across.

Apple listened to the cheerful chatter of her allies as she waited for her session with the Gamemakers, chiming in occasionally. Surprisingly, their chatter was light-hearted and carefree, considering what they were about to face. Only Ali, the shyest and youngest of the group at age twelve, was silent.

"How are you doing?" Apple asked the young girl.

"I'm nervous," Ali admitted quietly.

Apple nodded. "I am too, but do you you want to know what I'm doing to keep myself calm?"

Ali nodded.

"I'm picturing myself doing well and earning a good score. It's what I do back home before I play any sport. Positive thinking really helps a lot sometimes."

"Okay. I'll try," said Ali, and Apple gave a small smile.

"You'll do great," said Brook, jumping in with a wide grin. "We all will!"

Russ nodded quickly, offering encouragement of his own.

"See? We can do this," Apple said. She was about to offer more encouraging words, but was stopped short when her name was called.

"Well, wish me luck," Apple said as she stood up and made her way towards the training room doors.

"Good luck!" chimed Brook and Russ, while Ali nodded. Ali took a deep breath and strided forwards, hoping she looked confident. Once the doors closed behind her, Apple glanced up to see a sea of Gamemakers glancing down at her.

Apple had planned ahead for her private session, and she and Argon, her mentor, had discussed her strategy that morning, so she felt confident in what she was about to do. Nodding to the Gamemakers, she broke into a sprint, running as fast as she could to the agility course. It would be foolish not to show off her athleticism, and both she and Argon agreed the agility course would be the best way to do so. She finished the course with her best time yet, and with a triumphant grin, sprinted to the rock wall. She scurried up the wall a few feet before jumping down, landing gracefully on her feet.

Next came the most nerve wrecking part; showing skills with a weapon. Apple bolted over to the swords station and picked up a gleaming blade. When she started training a few days before, Apple had selected the swords, as swinging the blades reminded her of swinging a tennis racket, which was one of her favorite sports after soccer. She knew swords and rackets weren't even close to being the same object, but it at least was a start. She first swung at a few targets, trying to demonstrate the techniques the trainer had showed her. Then, she turned her attention to the Gamemakers.

"Can I have a swordsman to duel?"

Apple knew she was taking a risk. The Capitolite sword trainers were skilled professionals, having mastered their weapon for years, and she had only mere hours of practice. She knew there was no way she could beat any trainer in a sword fight, but she hoped she could at least hold her own long enough to last until the end of her session, which would end in just under four minutes.

The Capitolite that entered the training floor was not a man, but a woman, with her short orange hair tied back in a ponytail. Apple gathered all the information she learned about using a sword, and tried her best against her opponent. She brought all the determination she would use in a soccer game or a tennis match into this fight, hoping it would be enough to earn her a decent score, without painting a target on her back. It was a difficult balance, one Apple knew she'd do anything to achieve.

The duel against the swords trainer was probably the hardest task Apple had ever participated in. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit she struggled against her opponent. The trainer almost forced the sword from her hands multiple times. Still, Apple did her best, and while she hadn't made any impact on the woman, she was still holding on when Celestia Snow politely dismissed her.

Breathing heavily, Apple took a bow. "Thank you for your time. It has been an honor."

The eighteen-year left the training room, where she found her district partner and escort waiting for her.

"How did it go?" Candy, the escort asked, giving Apple a gentle smile.

"It went well, I think. I hope they liked my skills. We'll just have to see though, I guess."

"I'm sure you did fine," Candy said "Both of you. You two are the strongest tributes we've had in years."

Marco gave a small smile, while Apple nodded in appreciation. "Thank you. It's good to know you care."

Apple's words were sincere. Candy was surprisingly caring, for a Capitolite, and seemed to genuinely want her tributes to do well. This year's mentors, Argon Humphrey and Geno Haggerman, also were both dedicated to bringing either her or Marco home. Knowing she had people on her side meant a lot to Apple. She knew that not all tributes had that.

Candy beamed. "Of course, dear. Now, let's go back to our floor, shall we? You'll have time to relax before dinner."

The escort lead Apple and Marco to the elevator. As they walked Candy was full of enthusiastic chatter. Apple didn't mind, and while she let Candy do most of the talking, she was interested with what Candy had to say, and nodded along at the appropriate times. Marco was quiet as usual. Apple noticed that he didn't speak much, but that was fine. Not everyone had to be talkative, and just because Apple was an extrovert didn't mean everyone had to be. Her twenty-three-year-old sister, P.C., and her best friend Atari were both definitely introverts, and they both made a positive impact on Apple's life.

Thinking about P.C. and Atari just made Apple miss them, along with the rest of her family and friends, even more. She desperately wanted to get home to them, and hoped she had done what she need to in order to help her get the score that would be aid her in her journey to get there.

* * *

 **Nerrah Salvatore, 17, District Six Female**

 _Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg_

After Iris left for her private session, Nerrah sat in silence. She didn't bother talking to Devon, as her district partner had little interest in her and she didn't feel like making conversation with any of the remaining tributes. Instead, she waited, going over her plan in her mind.

Nerrah had a fairly good idea of what she wanted to show the Gamemakers, and after she told her plan to Noa and they agreed to it, her strategy was solidified. Nerrah knew it would be best to go with what she knew. When she was a kid, maybe around eight or nine, she had begged her favorite older half brother, Wade, to teach her how to fist fight. Wade was reluctant, of course, since he was nine years older, but eventually gave in, unable to resist his baby sister's puppy eyes. Wade was nothing but gentle with her, never coming close to hurting her, but he was still effective. Once, when Nerrah was twelve, she had even managed to cause him to double over when she hit him in the stomach. She quickly apologized, and genuinely felt horrible for not realizing her own strength, but also couldn't help but feel proud for how much she had improved.

Besides fist fighting, she also was handy with a wrench. Nerrah knew wrenches weren't the most conventional weapon, but it was familiar to her. The metal utensil reminded her of home, and she felt at ease with it in her hand. She wasn't sure how killing someone with a wrench would go, but if it worked in the antique board game Nerrah played once called Clue, surely it would work for her. Nerrah snickered quietly to herself, imagining all the tributes running around with wrenches, with most having no fucking idea what to do with them.

After a few seconds, Nerrah realized exactly what she had just laughed at. She laughed at the image of tributes using a tool not to fix tools, but to murder. When did she start thinking about killing like that? How was it that easy for her mind to drift to such morbid thoughts? Sure, her sense of humor was a little twisted, she had to admit, but still, it was a bit scary. Maybe it was just her way of coping with the situation. Who could say?

Nerrah hadn't been paying attention to what time it had been when Devon had left for his private session, but she was wishing she had. She was only a little nervous, but she still wanted to get this over with. She couldn't imagine what it was like to be from Districts Ten, Eleven, or Twelve, having to always go last. Nerrah supposed that was an advantage of being a middle district; she didn't have the pressure of going first, nor the anticipation of being last.

"Nerrah Salvadore," the robotic voice called. Nerrah rose and heading into the Training Center. She followed the tips Noa told her of walking with confidence and acting as though she knew exactly what she was doing.

"I will be requiring a hand-to-hand trainer and a wrench," Nerrah said, in a loud, clear voice. She was used to speaking up, as the garage could become quite noisy, and she often had to shout back and forth to family members whenever she or anyone else had a question.

It didn't take take long for a trainer to come down to the training floor, wrench in hand. He handed Nerrah the wrench and picked up a sword, so she took that as the cue to start. She swung the wrench, listening to the clank of metal against the trainer's sword. She had some practice since the first time she tried this on the first day of training, so she didn't automatically fail within the first two minutes of sparring. Instead, she put up the strongest fight she could. At one point, she managed to slam the wrench into the trainer's shoulder, which made the trainer wince in pain. He persevered though, just as he had been instructed to do. Eventually, Nerrah received a mock blow to the stomach, and the fight was declared over.

After taking a few seconds to catch her breath, Nerrah launched into a wrestling match with the trainer, using only her hands to fight. Considering the fact that she was a seventeen-year-old girl against a full-grown man, she was able to hold her own, and when her time ran out and she was dismissed,she couldn't help but feel proud at her accomplishments. She hoped the Gamemakers would view it as enough to earn her a good score. She politely thanked the Gamemakers before heading out to join her mentor, escort, and district partner out in the hall.

"How was it?" asked Noa. "Did you stick to your plan?"

Nerrah nodded. "I did. They didn't even hesitate on giving me the wrench. I hope that made me stand out to them."

"That's great," said her escort, Sayaka, giving her a kind smile. "I know I would be impressed."

Noa nodded. "It should," she said as she lead the group to the elevator and pushed the Sixth floor's button. "We won't know for sure though until the scores are shown tonight. Until then, the time is yours. Is there anything either of you would like to discuss or require my help with?"

Devon shrugged. After considering their offer, Nerrah shook her head. "No, thank you. I think I'm just going to rest for a while."

"Of course," her mentor said. "Self care is always important. Be sure to take care of you. If you need anything, let myself or Sayaka know."

The escort nodded quickly in agreement, and Nerrah smiled in appreciation. The elevator door open, and Devon slipped out without another word. The other three followed at a slower pace.

"See you tonight," Nerrah said, and her mentor and escort nodded in response.

She retreated into the room that had been her living space for the past few days, closing the door and flopping on the bed. She heaved a huge sigh that she didn't know she had been holding in. Private sessions were finally over, but the battle was really only just beginning. Hopefully, Nerrah would have what it took to push through until the end.

* * *

 **Everett Dyer, District Ten Male**

 _Ejbeaumont_

To say that Everett was stressed out would be the understatement of the century.

He was used to having anxiety over trivial things. Little things, things that his parents and sister would shake their heads at, stupid shit that he knew there was no goddamn reason to be anxious about but… Dammit, he just couldn't help it. He couldn't help the butterflies that blew around his stomach uncomfortably. He just couldn't help but worry for things that to other people seemed trivial at best. Things like going to the market by himself- what he if accidentally took a wrong turn? What if he didn't know the directions as well as he thought and got lost? And ugh, tests. Tests were the absolute worst. He hated tests. He did nothing but worry about them, even in the subjects he was comfortable with.

But this… This wasn't a simple little thing that really had no effect on his future. This wasn't a trivial thing, no, this was… This was it! This was the goddamn Hunger Games! Every single day that went by, Everett felt more and more anxious. It was like he was a horrible balloon, constantly being inflated by anxiety, each day a puff is blown into him, until he was eventually so full that he was just going to… Pop! He had never been so stressed in his life.

Hell, he hadn't even been this nervous when he was questioning his sexuality. And that had certainly been the most stressful time of his life to date. When he was younger, maybe, thirteen, fourteen, he had just been in this horrible place. He was lost in anxiety about his feelings for another guy, and that affected every aspect of his life. His mental health was absolutely tanking at that time. He had never been so anxious and stressed out in his life. He didn't trust that his parents would accept him. He didn't trust that he wouldn't be thrown out. He didn't trust anything. He really leaned on Sawyer and Helena in that time, they were the reason he was still alive today, honestly. When he was in that horrible time, he totally shut his parents out. That sealed their fate, and their relationship was never the same after that, not even after Everett came out to them.

Everett was just horribly nervous, afraid he'd fuck up again. He wondered if their relationship had changed because of him shutting them out or because he was gay. He had no idea what caused his mother to become so cold to him. His father was proud, happy when he came out, but his mother withdrew. As for his sister, well, they never really got along. They barely talked, and honestly, Everett wasn't all that surprised that she didn't visit him after he was reaped, just because she "didn't want to." It made him angry and hurt, but not surprised. He knew that their terrible relationship was a product of neither of them trying to understand each other. It was both of their faults.

Everett snapped back into reality when the mechanical voice beckoned for Milo Redtail to report to the Training Center for his private session.

Everett hated going towards the end. He had always been a rip-off-the-bandaid type person. When he went last, all he ever did was sit there and think about all the horrible ways this could go wrong. He hated it, he absolutely fucking hated just sitting here and doubting himself like this. He would have much rather gone first. At least then he would have been sure about what he was doing at the time, then doubted after it was over. When he doubted before the thing happened, it would make whatever he was doing timid as he second-guessed his actions. He tried to focus on anything else, on the other tributes in the room, thinking that maybe listening to the cheerful banter of the Twelve tributes would cheer him up or at least distract him from his anxiety. It didn't.

Katarina kept glancing over at him. He knew that if he dared look up and make eye contact, she would take it as an invitation to come in and start a conversation. He just didn't want to talk to her, honestly, he didn't want to be sucked into her alliance without trusting either of them. Riding solo was going to be how he won the Games, it was just going to have to be.

"Amaranth Smith," the voice called, and the tribute from Nine stood up, tried her best to look confident, and strolled out to the main room of the Training Center.

Everett's heart started to pound. He was next. This was it. The waiting game was absolutely tantalizing, God, he hated it. He hated waiting here. He wish he could have been from a District that got to go early. Now he was doubting everything he'd planned to do, which was doing nothing but making him even _more_ stressed out and anxious. His parents and family always told him to just get over it, to breathe, as if breathing will make everything just magically disappear. He knew that he shouldn't be anxious and scared, he knew that would only be bad for him. But he couldn't exactly help it. And knowing that he wasn't supposed to be anxious did nothing but, guess what, made him even _more_ anxious. Ugh. It was just such a terrible cycle.

Time seemed to crawl on. It was as if a clock was ticking and Everett could feel each slow, horrible tick jolt through his body. He sat there quietly, his mind racing, heart pounding, and could feel his palms become sweaty. He practically jumped out of his seat when the metallic voice announced his name.

He didn't even turn around or look back, he just walked slowly into the Training Center, trying everything he could not to quiver or sweat. He had to appear confident and menacing. After all, he was going into this alone, and he all knew it. He swallowed hard as he looked up at the Gamemakers, feeling mostly like he was about to throw up. His voice shook slightly as he said, "Everett Dyer," as loudly as he could manage. The Gamemakers were watching. Arlo and Abi said that usually the Gamemakers weren't paying attention by the time they had gone in for their sessions, which both consoled and annoyed him. But these Gamemakers seemed to be different. Pretty much all of them were still watching, only a couple were drinking and still chattering.

He knew what he had to do. He cleared his throat and tried to make sure his voice was more steady than it had been when he said his name. Before he could second-guess it, he blurted out, "I request an archery trainers."

The Gamemakers were all quiet now, and Celestia gave a nod. The Capitolite man walked out soon after, taking a bow and some arrows with blunt rubber ends on the end instead of points.. Everett guided him over, close to the agility course.

"Shoot at me," he said. "Don't hold back." This was pretty absurd, he knew, but his mentor agreed that taking a risk would be worth it, especially because he'd been so withdrawn and quiet so far.

"I won't," the trainer promised. Everett had practiced this way before, and knew that if these arrows hit him it wouldn't cause much more than a bruise. Everett started running the agility course while avoiding the arrows.

They whooshed past him as he kept going, not looking back. He dodged the arrows and quickly went through the course, running and jumping and climbing, all while avoiding the trainer's perfectly-placed shots. He was almost hit by one while he was on the monkey bars, but swung his body up and dodged it narrowly.

He weaved between cones and tumbled under flying arrows. He even caught onto the trainer aiming the arrow slightly in front of him, hoping that he would run into it. He finished the course, panting but smiling as he'd gotten through without getting hit once.

Everett didn't really have anything else to show, so he gave the Gamemakers a nod to signify that he was finished, hoping that he had done enough to get at least an acceptable score. He walked out of the room, still out of breath, unsure how much time had gone by. Hopefully his skill was up to par with the others.

Everett was doubting his actions. What if he didn't do enough? Should he have shown off with a weapon? The butterflies came back as he started to worry about sponsors, his training score, the Games… His nerves were calmed slightly when he saw Arlo, who put his hand up in a wave.

"How'd it go?"

Everett shrugged. He honestly didn't know.

"Well, I suppose we'll find out when we see the scores," he said.

"Yeah," Everett sighed. "We'll find out then."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Getting closer and closer to the Games! Thanks for your patience and all your lovely reviews. Next up we see the scores!**_


	17. Interlude 1

**Interlude 1**

Joltee looked through the papers that had just been handed to him by Celestia. Each one had on it the name of a tribute and an evaluation of what they did for their session. Celestia had diligently taken notes on every single strategy and alliance that even _seemed_ to be forming in the process of training. It wasn't surprising to the President in the least that Celestia would put in 110 percent, as she always did. She knew what was at stake. She knew how ruthless he could be. And, of course, he liked that she knew. He liked that the entire nation knew.

"What have the crowds been saying?" he asked, as part of his interrogation of the Head Gamemaker. Now, he was just trying to trip her up. He couldn't help it, he just loved to mess with her. Trying to throw the little goody-goody off her game was one of Joltee's favorite pastimes, after all.

"From what I've heard, the crowds are rallying behind the exact tributes you would expect. They seem to be betting on the Careers, especially Ares because of his brute strength. They also love the drama that Bliss brings with her, as well as Tay's enthusiasm and her obvious strength. As for outer-District tributes, opinions are mixed. There's a lot of love for Apple and Marco from Three. The crowd is also totally behind Milo the Silo."

Joltee snorted at that. "So ridiculous," he said under his breath.

"It worked, though," Celestia said. "His chariot costume really made him stand out."

"He certainly did. Hey, everyone has to have a gimmick," Joltee said. Celestia's was simply that she was the President's granddaughter. Joltee's was his name, the fact that he had been an escort for District Five and changed it. Everyone has to have a gimmick, that's how they stick in the memory. Who could forget the "Lucky Rabbit" of the Seventy-Third Games? Titles stick, and all Victors have had some kind of gimmick. It was one of the prerequisites for winning.

"Who else?"

"Obviously the younger ones are seen as adorable, but people have no faith in their ability to win."

"Like…?"

"Brooklyn and Ali, mostly. And Russ, for some reason."

"Well then, I anticipate that alliance seeing a lot of love in the Games," Joltee said. "You think any of them are Victor material?"

Celestia smirked a bit. "I think that everyone has potential to be."

"What about the criminal?"

Celestia's demeanor didn't falter, much to the President's disappointment. "Him too."

"We'll see about that," Joltee said, stacking up the papers. "Thank you so much for your time, Miss Snow. I'm expecting big things from you."

Celestia forced a polite smile. "Of course, President."

"You are dismissed. I will send these scores to the press team in anticipation for tonight's presentation."

The Head Gamemaker gave a nod. "Thank you Sir." After a few seconds of silence, affirming that the President had nothing else to say, Celestia turned around and left quickly.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hi everyone! We hope you're all doing well. So, we know this is the last thing most submitters want to hear, but we didn't want to leave you hanging so long. This story will be going on hiatus for an unknown amount of time, until at least the middle of December. We have both been swamped with schoolwork this semester and just simply don't have time to keep up with a monthly update (or in Dreamer's case, writing anything at all.). Thank you so much for your support and understanding. We hope that we can continue this story soon, but real life comes first. Don't worry, though, we're not going to abandon or end this story! We will be back! We just wanted to let you know so you didn't think we abandoned you, something neither of us would ever do if at all possible.**_


	18. Scores Reveal and Interview Prep

**Scores Reveal and Interview Prep**

 **Dinah Cambric, District Eight Female, 15**

 _Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg_

Dinah couldn't help but feel nervous about the reveal of scores. She had to admit, she didn't do anything particularly showy or impressive for her Private Session. Then again, she didn't really have the skill set to do anything other than what she did.

Sure, the net trap she made did what it was supposed to. She was thankful for that, at least. It was a very well-made trap and if another tribute were the one to be caught, she would certainly have them captive. But then what? She didn't practice any weapon skills. Hell, she didn't even know where the most efficient place to stab would be if she had a weapon. She never thought she would have to know that. She never wanted to know it. And it wasn't like she had an ally to help her out. She wasn't opposed to the idea, but she wasn't exactly the sunshiney type that just made friends easily.

Dinah wondered if she would bite the dust for being caught without someone else. Either someone would sneak up on her, Dinah wouldn't know how to use a weapon, Dinah choked and couldn't kill…

 _No, I have to kill,_ she chided herself. _When it gets down to it…_ She knew she couldn't afford to think this way. She had to, otherwise she would die. She wasn't ready to die yet. She wasn't ready to leave her family. She wasn't ready to be forgotten.

Maybe she wasn't as vocal as Jute and Elenore. In the face of adversity, they found their voices. In the shadow of death, they'd found a purpose. They were surely going to do wonderful things. Dinah could do wonderful things too, she just knew it. But she wasn't like them. She wasn't the kind to burst at the opportunity to take credit for something. If anything, the exact opposite. She did what she knew she could do, and she did it quietly. She kept her head down. She wasn't like her siblings, who were now so outspoken.

They had all three witness the shopkeeper killed for treason. Dinah had witnessed death before, she'd watched it with her own eyes. And this was what was left. That was one of the most formative events in her young life, and after it the Cambric siblings were never the same. Dinah still wasn't sure if she was empowered or cowardly. She supposed she would find out when a knife was put in her hand. But how could she make her siblings watch their sister kill someone? How could Dinah do it to herself? She still wasn't sure.

"You coming?" Cecelia, her mentor, gently put a hand on Dinah's shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. Dinah was thankful for that, though. She'd rather not think about what was to come if she could avoid it. Even if only for a little bit.

Dinah didn't want to vocalize a response, so she mutely nodded and stood to follow her mentor. That was one thing that Dinah was blessed with, she had an amazing team behind her. Cecilia was kind and nurturing, and Anthony just wanted to see his District succeed, bring home a Victor for once. Dinah wasn't sure what to think about Zatheniya. District Eight's escort seemed… The least like an escort Dinah had ever seen. Especially behind closed doors.

The woman just seemed so kind, under her fuchsia-tinted skin and giant wig of hair. She looked the part, especially with the technology that allowed her to speak, technology that people in District Eight would die to have. Technology that gave her a voice. Around her, Dinah felt bad that she didn't use the voice she'd been given. The teen just couldn't think of what to say to her. She just looked so sad, especially when she looked at Dinah and Mav. She was such a gentle and sensitive soul, and she actually cared about Dinah and Mav and took care of them, as well as making sure they're punctual. It really felt like a coherent team, and with them behind her Dinah felt like she stood a chance. Even if she was just deluding herself.

Dinah wordlessly sat on the couch next to Zatheniya. Anthony was sitting on the floor, while Mav and Cecelia were sitting in armchairs across the room from each other.

"You ready?" Anthony asked them both. Mav and Dinah exchanged a look of uncertainty.

"Let's just rip off the bandaid," Mav said, rubbing his shoulder and rotating it, causing it to make a popping noise that made Dinah resist the urge to cringe. After another minute of them watching Capitol commercials, Simone and Blaine appeared on the screen, both of them smiling like this was the best day of their lives. The nerves creeped up on Dinah and she suddenly felt butterflies flying around in her stomach, like she was going to throw up.

"Welcome, one and all, to the broadcast of our tributes' training scores for the Ninety-Sixth annual Hunger Games!" Blaine said, causing Simone to smile even bigger, which Dinah didn't think was possible.

"Well, this is surely exciting! I hear we have a great batch of scores this year displaying the abilities of our great tributes, as demonstrated in their Private Sessions and throughout their three days of training!" Simone said energetically. As if nobody was going to die. "So, let's get started!"

"From District One… Zircon Smith, with a score of… Nine! And the lovely Bliss Michelson, with a score of… Six." As the six flew around the girl's face, Dinah noticed Mav's eyebrows shoot up. The look in his eyes was one she could feel in her heart: hope.

"Take these scores with a grain of salt," Anthony said. "Always keep your guard up."

Dinah's hope disappeared pretty quickly after that. She knew that he was right. Dinah had seen her in training and knew she wasn't to be overlooked.

"And from District Two! Ares Hardy, with a score of… Oo, ten!" Not a surprise. "And, his partner Amalissa Blackthorne, with a score of… Eight!

From District Three… Marco Maudslay, with a score of… Seven! And, also from Three, Apple Grey. With a score of… Six!" Formidable scores for District Three tributes, both of them. No wonder Blaine and Simone looked so impressed.

"From District Four, Soren Cantarell, with a score of… Nine! And from District Four, Tay Faringdale, with a score of… Nine as well!

From District Five, we have Avery Hayley, with a score of… Five! And, his partner, Iris Solaric, with a score of...Huh, five as well! Well, isn't that fitting?" The commentators share a laugh about that. Dinah hoped she could match up to all these other tributes. Hopefully the other outer District tributes didn't score as high as those two.

"From District Six, Devon Steele. With a score of… Six! And, also from District Six, Nerrah Salvadore, with a score of…" Blaine let out a whistle. "Wow! Eight!" Dinah was shocked at that. She didn't doubt the strength of the Six girl, who Dinah watched a bit during training. But the fact that she rivaled a Career was bad news for the Eight tributes. Blaine and Simone gush about how wonderful of a score that is, and Dinah resists the urge to turn away.

"From District Seven, first we have Rowan Axton, with a score of six! And, from District Seven, Pyra Leyland, with a score of… Three." Ooo, ouch. Dinah resisted the urge to make a face. She felt bad for the girl, but relieved that someone scored that low. Surely Dinah managed to beat a three. Dinah immediately felt guilty for having the thought.

"And, from District Eight, Maverick Nash. With a score of… Four." There was a vibe of disappointment that filled the whole room.

"People have won with fours," Anthony said, but it didn't stop Mav from cursing repeatedly under his breath as Dinah's name was announced.

"Dinah Cambric, with a score of… Four." Dinah felt a wave of disappointment, but part of her expected that this was coming. She felt like she let everyone down, but tried to hide it.

"We can work with that," Cecelia said. Zatheniya sniffled and quickly excused herself, but not before everyone could see her eyes fill with tears. This wasn't the first time she cried since the reaping, and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

"From District Nine, Milo "The Silo" Redtail! With a score of… Five! And, his partner, Amaranth Smith, with a score of… Three." Not all too surprising. Now there were two tributes that were worse than Dinah and Mav.

"From District Ten, Everett Dyer. With a score of… Five. Also from District Ten, Katarina Hubert. With a score of…" Dinah braced herself, knowing it was going to be high. "...Seven." That caused Blaine's eyebrows to go up and sparked a short exchange between the announcers.

"Next, from District Eleven, Thoreau Abdulrashid. With a score of… Five. And, his partner, Ali Morwelder, with a score of… Three." Dinah breathed a sigh of relief. At least they weren't outscored by the small girl with glasses.

"And finally, from District Twelve, Russet Hem. With a score of… Four." Another on the same level as them. "And, our last tribute but certainly not least, Brooklyn Bay, with a score of… Three." One of the least. Or, one of the least scorers.

"We can work with that," Cecelia said reassuringly, and Anthony nodded. Dinah hoped they were right.

The sound of Zatheniya's loud, defeated sobs from the other room wasn't very promising, though.

* * *

 **Pyra Leyland, District Seven Female, 13**

 _Kate-the-Great-and-Powerful_

Pyra was _so_ humiliated. Not only that, she was angry. She may have been only thirteen and the second-youngest tribute in the Games this year after Ali from District Eleven, but even so, she had hoped she would be able to score higher than a _three_ , ending up in a four way tie for the lowest score.

Prya wished she could have crawled underneath the couch and hid when they announced her score. Adler, Rowan's rude, grouchy mentor, snorted at the dismal score, clearly disgusted and already giving up on her. Johanna's face was pretty stoic, as if considering if Pyra was still worth the effort. The red-headed, pasty Helena made some sarcastic joke about how Pyra was going to go far with that "marvelous" score, making Pyra feel even worse. Perhaps the worse reaction was Rowan's. He looked at her with pity, then quickly glanced away, like his gaze would break her or cause her to burst into tears. Pyra wasn't some little girl, and she didn't need nor want his pity. She should have been capable of so much more, as she was in the top of her class, but she failed. Pyra wished she could be on par with Rowan's solid score of six, but she just wasn't. She didn't really expect to be on the same level as a seventeen year old, but the fact that she wasn't even close was a hard pill to swallow.

In hindsight, though, maybe there was more she could have done in her Private Session. Pyra had played up her strengths by spending her allotted time at the edible plants station, because that is what she was best at. Her scores were around the 90th percentile, but that was all she had shown them. In training, she had worked with a lot of weapons, mostly small and versatile ones like knives and small hatchets. However, she couldn't use them well, and they were definitely a weak spot of hers. Pyra hadn't shown the skills to the Gamemakers because she hadn't been confident with them and didn't want to risk failing miserably and looking like an idiot. Now though, she was starting to regret her choice. At least if she had used a weapon in the Private Session, she would have shown she knew what to _do_ with one. It was too late now, though.

After the scores had aired, Pyra had gone straight to her room, and Johanna had let her. From the moment she boarded the train and met her mentor, Pyra had flooded Johanna with questions, wanting to soak in all the information and advice the middle-aged woman had to offer. Though her answers were often full of snark, Johanna took time to answer all of them, for which Pyra was thankful. After the scores reveal had completed, though, Pyra hadn't been in the mood to talk with Johanna and deal with her snark. Having mentored for more than twenty years, Johanna knew when to give tributes space, something Pyra appreciated.

With the interviews only hours away, though, Pyra knew she couldn't hide forever. There was only a little less than two more hours until she and Rowan would have to meet up with their stylists, according to Helena, and in that time, Pyra had to figure out how to salvage herself and prove to the sponsors that she was smarter and more capable than her low score portrayed. The best way to figure that out was through Johanna. Slowly swinging open her door, Pyra shuffled out into the main area of the District Seven suite. Rowan and Adler had disappeared, though Pyra whether or not they were together or not. Helena was also gone, so Johanna was the only one to be found, stretched out on the couch while slowly sipping some sort of cocktail.

"So, you decided not to hide any more," Johanna said, setting her drink down on a coaster.

The victor didn't seem drunk, and her words were unslurred, which Pyra found some relief in. She wasn't sure how she'd take her mentor being drunk just hours before the interviews. Some victors were known for drinking their way through the Games or even got high night after night, but clearly, Johanna wasn't one of those. Despite her blunt and snarky nature, she actually tried to be there for her tributes. She just wasn't all that good at showing that she cared. At least she was better at it than Adler, though, who had a nasty reputation throughout the district.

"I wasn't hiding," Pyra muttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Sure you weren't," Johanna said with a smirk. "Are you ready to talk, then? Or are you just hoping to wing your interview and just hope it doesn't go to shit?"

"I'm ready to talk."

"Good. Then sit." Johanna sat up, creating space for Pyra to sit next to her on the couch. Pyra sat down, trying to appear more confident than she was feeling at the moment.

"Look, I'm not going to sugarcoat anything. That won't do you any good. A three definitely isn't a favorable score, but I really don't need to tell you that, do I?"

Pyra shook her head.

"Of course not. Only an idiot would consider a three a good score, and with how much you've been bragging about how high your grades are, I sure hope you're no idiot. At the same time, it's not _impossible_ to win with a three. It's a struggle, it will be the hardest thing you've ever done, but it's hard for every single Victor that emerges out of that damn arena. So you'd better get fucking used to it. The point is, winning with a three is still possible if you keep having that attitude you've held onto since the very beginning. The moment you say 'I can't do this' is the moment you come home in a wooden box. You might as well seal yourself in a coffin now and write your own eulogy. So Pyra, should I teach you how to give a decent interview, or how to write your own eulogy?"

"Teach me how to give a good interview," Pyra said, looking her mentor straight in the eye for the first time since the scores were revealed.

"Alright, then you need a strategy. What is the most important thing that you want sponsors to know about you?"

"That I'm smart," Pyra replied automatically. "That they shouldn't count me out because of my age because my brains will make up for it."

"Okay, sure. But that's something District Three tributes claim more years than not. Yeah, you're smart, but what makes you stand out. You need to show them you have a strategy, and that you and Katarina are ready to kick some ass in the arena. Even if you're not, you have to pretend you are. You don't even have to say what you're strategy is. You can leave it a mystery if you want, which would make the audience look forward to Katarina's interview, which will help you out indirectly, too."

"I don't really know what our strategy is beyond staying together and watching each other's backs," Pyra admitted. "I think it depends on the arena. So, I'll just have to pretend I have one then?"

"Yep, and you better make sure you and Katarina have a strategy by the end of the first day, otherwise you're screwed."

Pyra nodded seriously. "Got it. Thanks, Johanna."

Johanna gave a small hint of a smile. "All in a day's work, kid."

After talking to Johanna, Pyra felt a little better about her rapidly approaching interview. She could do this; she just had to hold on to her confidence and focus on her strengths, which was her intelligence. With a strong ally in Katarina, hopefully everything would go her way.

* * *

 **Soren Cantarell, District Four Male, 18**

 _Sinfonian Legend_

Soren never would have thought that he'd be using the sexy bastard angle for his interview. After all, he was never like all the other people. He was always just the weird kid with the bleached hair and no place where he belonged.

Soren's parents didn't think he belonged in their house, not after his grades were less than their expectations. So much less that they decided he wasn't even worth having around in the house. To them, he was just a lost cause. Nothing more than a deadbeat that would end up ruining his life within a year. From then on, he was just that grody guy that didn't have a home. He lost all of his friends except for Dandy, and picked up Wheeler on the way through training.

That was where he belonged. In the training center. That was the place that Soren knew he belonged. He obviously didn't belong in school, he was pretty sure everyone knew that from the time he was a kid. He certainly knew it. When he was sitting in a classroom, nothing made sense to him. He could try his very best at everything and it still wouldn't be enough to get him a passing grade. He didn't care about all the pointless Capitol propaganda they were filling kids' brains with at school.

Soren wanted to learn things that really mattered to him, hands-on. And that was what training was to him. It was a place he excelled immediately, he just had natural talent. It was a calling. Soon he was ahead of everyone in his section and helping out younger trainees. That was when he met Sammy Wheeler, and the two of them started pushing each other. Soren knew there were other Academies with trainees stronger than him, so he worked to beat all of them out. That was how he spent his time, how he made his life.

Slowly, the Academy had turned Soren from a scared kid to a person with a purpose in life. And now he was given the opportunity to fulfill that purpose. He had worked hard to get to this point, but the hardest was yet to come and he knew it. But he was also ready for it.

Tonight, though, tonight wouldn't be hard. Not at all. From the time he'd gotten here Cobra commented on what a dashing young man he was. Even Finnick, the sexy bastard himself, had commented that Soren had what it took to woo the crowds. His prep team was excited about him, especially the sun-bleached part of his hair, so much that they decided to dye more of it to match. Soren had to admit he wasn't exactly thrilled about that, but if that was what it took then it was part of the job.

To everyone around him, it was obvious that Soren was going to be the hottie of this year's Games. Not that the other guys weren't attractive, they just couldn't pull it off. He was truly the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, and since he was a volunteer everyone took notice of him from the start. Soren hadn't felt like a hotshot very much back home, only occasionally in the Academy, but now was really his chance to ham it up.

Soren felt confident as his prep team guided him to his styling room to get ready for his big night. He and Finnick had gone through some practice questions, which Soren was confident about. Cobra, who had been escorting for a while, was full of good advice as well. They really knew the ins and outs of the Games, considering they were so experienced. And, since they were thrilled to be an escort for District Four, they were always willing to help Soren and Tay when necessary.

(However, Soren really didn't appreciate how much Cobra glorified the shithole that was District Four. The coast meant nothing. They could talk about the _beautiful beaches_ and the _vast ocean_ and _brilliant shining sun_ all that shit all they wanted. The beaches couldn't be utilized on most days and when they could be, they were crowded and sweaty. The ocean was practically off-limits, except for training days when they worked on swimming. The fish smell reeked, everyone was always sweaty, not to mention the sun permanently damaged his hair! And the people, most of them weren't worth shit.)

Soren knew that Tay was going to woo the crowds with her huge and sunny personality, but he wasn't worried about falling into her shadow. He was sure that he wasn't going to let that happen. Sure, she'd have the crowds laughing with her tactless and loud banter, but Soren was going to give the crowd what they really, truly wanted: a winner. Someone to wave their flags behind. Someone to bet money on. And Soren was going to be that person.

He was determined to be the person nobody else could be on the stage. Hopefully the sponsors and Capitolite crowds would just see it in his eyes, in his stance. He was going to carry himself as if he'd already won the Games and was preparing for his first public appearance as a Victor. The thought filled him with excitement and determination. He was going to prove everyone wrong, and come back home to laugh in the face of his ridiculous District of seaweed-brains. Especially his parents.

Soren didn't mind the prep this time. It had been a bit rough last time, especially the eyebrow plucking and the hair dying, ugh. But now, it was simple. Only small adjustments had to be made before he was being changed. He was dreading the reveal of his outfit, but to his surprise his prep team had managed to come up with something that wasn't completely awful. Only a tad.

He was given a pair of tight dark jeans, a white dress shirt and black tie, and a black leather jacket. Soren had never worn jackets before, considering most of the time he was sweating to death in the ruthless sun back home. It wasn't so bad, but it was hot. He got his Head Stylist's permission to keep it off until Tay went out for her interview so that he would be a sweaty mess by the time he got on stage.

He was a bit surprised when his prep team brought out make-up, but not mad by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, he would have liked to try it himself back home, if he had the money for it all and the time and a proper mirror. He watched, interested, as his stylist contoured his face with different colors in different places and lots of blending. It really was a fascinating process. The end result was impressive, subtle enough, but also giving him a new kind of glow. Surely he'd be able to get people on his side now.

"I think that's our final finishing touch," his Head Stylist said, after everyone had stepped back to get a good look at the distance view. "Let's get him to the loading dock." Soon, Soren was being escorted to a small vehicle that would take him and his fellow tributes to the Complex where interviews would be held.

Tay bounced over to him, her eyes bright and smile wide. "Hi Soren! You look good!"

He stood up taller and smirked a little. "Thanks," he said, before adding as an afterthought, "You too."

"You ready to go?"

Soren took a deep breath as nerves started to settle into his chest. "Of course."

"Me too!" Tay squeaked happily, as the doors to the subway closed and the tributes were told to hold onto a pole. "First subway ride!" Tay said happily, grabbing a pole.

Soren did the same, and soon the subway lurched forward.

 _I am a winner,_ Soren thought to himself, watching the lights on the walls outside whiz past. _And tonight, everyone's going to know it._

* * *

 _ **A/N: We're back!**_ **School's calmed down for both of us so now we're ready to jump into the rest of this story.** _Hopefully, the first interview chapter will be out as close to the end of April as possible._ **Thanks for sticking by us through our little hiatus, leave us a review to let us know what you think!**


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